


collision theory

by 10softbot



Category: NCT (Band), UNIQ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Basketball, Enemies to Lovers, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22716895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10softbot/pseuds/10softbot
Summary: When the basketball varsity recruits new players, Johnny feels like his team is falling apart. Yibo is arrogant in everything he does, and Johnny can't see things working out.Maybe he should believe Sicheng when he says Yibo is actually good, but until Yibo proves that himself, Johnny will stand his ground.Damned be him if he changes his mind.
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Wang Yi Bo
Comments: 78
Kudos: 199





	collision theory

**Author's Note:**

> welcome, all, to the erin circus, where clown me writes 30k for two people who have likely never breathed the same air ever. i think the devil has taken over me for me to write this much for the rarest of pairs... but that's okay. i love them a lot... it's actually embarrassing how much i love them.  
> i hope you enjoy reading this mess as much as i loved writing it.  
> high school musical, but make it college. minus the dancing. and the singing.
> 
> special thanks to carly for always supporting whatever ridiculous idea i come up with, and for reading this over for me. huge thanks to mon, for helping me out and writing through some hiccups i've had through the plot, and for allowing me to suck you into this black hole.
> 
> as usual, don't translate or repost without permission or else your kneecaps will be seeing a baseball bat.
> 
> -
> 
> Mon’s notes: 
> 
> You know how there are great teams where there’s a sidekick like Batman and Robin, Geralt and Jaskier, okay I’ve run out of examples cos I’m writing this note at 5:30 in the morning, anyway, teams! Sidekicks! 
> 
> That’s what collaborating with Erin feels like. This was her race and I just got to help her out during the pit stops, get the gears all fixed up while she hydrated, and I’ve never been happier to be on her team. 
> 
> This is a special thank you to Erin, who let me along for the ride. I haven’t had this much fun writing in a long while and it was incredible getting to see her writing process this time around. 
> 
> I really hope y’all give this fic a chance. It’s a story worth reading, and even if you didn’t think you’d ship it before reading, you definitely will after you have. Thank you! ☺️☺️

As a rule of thumb, Johnny quite likes tryouts. He has been team captain for as long as he can remember, and there is just something extremely satisfying when you are in the position to watch new players come into the court. Some of them can barely stand still on their feet, others look like they would rather be elsewhere than standing there to be tested on their skill. 

Johnny likes, along with their coach, to find new talents for the team. He is always striving to be better and do better for them, because he knows they need a strong team once game season rolls around. The year prior to this, they got Ten and Seungyoun into the team, and the two of them have proven long ago what they came here for. 

This year, Johnny is excited. He watches with stars in his eyes and a big smile on his face as students flock into the court in their team’s uniform, the row of green making his heart beat just a little bit faster. In his sweats and jacket, he doesn’t feel in his element like he does when he has his varsity uniform on, but he knows he is in for a good time when the coach places a heavy hand on his shoulder and pats him twice. 

Where the coach watches closely for new talents, Johnny watches them from afar. There isn’t much that can be done, really; most of the students trying to get into the team are actually good, but not as good as the team currently needs them to be. They need agility and quick thinking, and Johnny watches attentively as sneakers squeak across the court. He has got his eyes on two of the players, but something doesn’t feel right. 

The closer Johnny watches, the more certain he is that, out of the two he originally had his eyes on, he only wants to keep one. And it’s not that the other is a bad player, it is just that something about him rubs Johnny off the wrong way. The boy looks like he is about ready to break some ankles if anyone so much as gets close to him, carrying a strange air of arrogance with himself that Johnny really, really detests. 

The boy doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t look at anyone in the eyes, answers the coach’s questions with a single word _when_ he even bothers using them. Johnny hates his attitude so much he can’t even bring himself to pay attention to the way he plays anymore. 

He doesn’t want this sort of energy on his team, but right now he knows there is little he can do. All he can really do is hope his teammates and coach feel the same, and that said boy won’t be put into the team. Hell, he will even speak up against it if need be. 

Johnny considers himself a lucky person, but sometimes life likes to test it out and make fun of him. As they sit down to discuss with their coach, Johnny knows that today is one of those days. 

The entire team is cramped in Coach Nichkhun’s office, Nichkhun himself sitting right across from them on his desk. He places his green folder on the desk, opening it without much ceremony. He pulls out two sheets of paper with photos attached to them, turning them upside down to himself so the boys can have a look at it. 

Johnny, sitting front and center, feels a bitter taste on his tongue. His teammates, however, seem to be very excited about the options presented to them. 

“Jung Jaehyun,” Coach Nichkhun starts off, tapping the picture on Johnny’s left, “just transferred here, was part of his previous college’s basketball team, as well as his middle and high school. Is in very good shape and exhibited nothing short of an excellent performance today.” 

“As expected from a long-time player,” Johnny adds, a small smile on his lips, and the chatter around him seems to grow louder for a couple second. 

“I’m sure you had his eyes on him too, Youngho,” Coach adds, and Johnny nods at him. “It would be hard to miss.” 

Seungyoun pushes forward through the crowd, holding himself steady on the back of Johnny’s chair as he reaches for the other sheet of paper. When Johnny looks up, there is excitement written all over his face. 

“And Yibo?” he asks, and Coach Nichkhun smiles at him. 

“Wang Yibo,” he taps the other picture, and Johnny tries to school his expression into something that doesn’t look utterly unpleased. “No records of having previously played with any team, says he usually plays basketball for fun. Despite not being trained, what I saw in this court today was… eerie, to say the least.” 

“He’s good, right?” Seungyoun adds, unable to hide the excitement from his voice. The coach nods at him, and Seungyoun barks out a laugh. “I _told him_ he should’ve come last year with me.” 

“To put it simple, he is good,” Coach Nichkhun continues. “I haven’t seen such raw talent in a really long time, and dare I say he is as good as you are, Youngho.” 

Johnny’s eyes snap up from the picture to their coach’s face, a deep frown between his brows. There is no way he just heard that right. His teammates’ voices roar in the room at the statement, most of them in awe their coach would say something as bold as this, and Johnny only snaps out of it when Ten’s hand falls on his shoulder to shake him violently. 

“Watch out, Captain,” Ten yells between laughs, lips coming close to his ear, “or else he’s gonna steal your spotlight.” 

“No,” is the first thing Johnny says since they got into the cramped room. Nichkhun looks questioningly at him, and Johnny continues, “I don’t want him in the team. It’s good if we keep Jaehyun, but not this Wang Yibo.” 

Seungyoun gasps. “You’re only saying this because you’re feeling threatened by him.” 

“No,” Johnny’s voice is sharp, and he turns around to glare at Seungyoun. “I’m saying this because I want what’s best for the team, and I don’t want an arrogant child with little sense of teamwork to ruin things for us.” 

“I think you’re being irrational,” Kun adds. “The guy is good, and we’ve all seen it today. We want him in the team, Coach wants him in the team. What actually is your problem?” 

“No offense, Captain,” Yukhei chimes in, trying to make himself seem small despite his ridiculous height, “but we really need him if we wanna win this season.” 

The chair screeches loudly against the tiled floor when Johnny pushes it back to stand on his feet. Everyone takes a step back and away from him, eyes glued to his figure, watching his every move. He heaves a sigh, politely bows to their coach and turns on his heels to leave. He only turns back around when he is about to close the door behind him, looking at each and every single one of them. 

“My final say in this matter is no. If you still choose to add him to the team, then I think we are going to have a problem.” 

Later that night, Johnny is found groaning in his bed, kicking his feet and making a mess of his sheets. He throws his phone across the room, which misses Sicheng’s head by a hair and falls on his roommate’s bed. Sicheng picks it up, briefly checking if the screen is cracked – to Johnny’s luck, it isn’t. 

“Why are you acting like a child?” Sicheng asks, annoyed at all the noise Johnny is making when he is trying to get some studying done. “Are you even done with your assignments for you to be lying in bed doing nothing?” 

“My team _hates_ me,” Johnny groans again, sitting up in frustration. 

Sicheng tosses the phone back to him, and Johnny catches it with a lot of struggle. “I highly doubt that, you’re just being dramatic.” 

“Ten just texted the group chat,” Johnny shows his screen to Sicheng, like Sicheng would ever be able to see anything from the bed across his without his contacts on. “They put someone in the team who isn’t qualified for it and who I explicitly said I didn’t want in.” 

“I mean,” Sicheng stops the scribbles on his notebook, “this went through your coach, didn’t it? If Nichkhun decided to put him in the team then I’m sure he must be good enough.” 

“ _Yes,_ ” Johnny whines, “Coach Nichkhun even offended me while discussing this.” 

Sicheng frowns. “How so?” 

“He said the guy was as good as _me_ . I’m the _captain!_ ” 

“Okay,” Sicheng pushes his studying material aside, now looking at Johnny with a completely serious face. “First of all, calm the fuck down and take it down a notch, superstar. Can you properly tell me what is going on? Yibo said he went to tryouts today but hasn’t updated me on it.” 

With the way Johnny looks at Sicheng, one would think his best friend just told him he murdered his entire family and their dog. 

“You _know_ him?” Johnny gasps, clutching at his chest. 

“Yeah? I’m his best friend?” Sicheng picks his notebook back up, resuming the notes he still has to take for his eight am class the following day. “You know I always support you ridiculous ass but this time you really need to shut the fuck up, Johnny.” 

“I’m just being honest!” Johnny tries to defend himself. “He’s arrogant as fuck!” 

“You’re being _irrational,_ ” Sicheng half yells, threatening to throw his bedside lamp at his head, “Yibo is _good_ _._ ” 

“Not you too!” Johnny wails, crashing back on his pillow. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about!” 

“I’ve seen him play with my own two eyes!” 

“You don’t know anything about sports!” 

“First of all, I’ve watched all seasons of Kuroko No Basuke!” Sicheng actually throws his pillow at Johnny, so hard it actually hurts. “And you’ve dragged me to enough of your games for me to know a good player when I see one. _You_ are a good player, Johnny, and I’ll have to agree with Coach Nichkhun when he said Yibo is just as good.” 

“Oh my god, it really be your own people.” 

Sicheng gets on his feet, and Johnny is sure his roommate and best friend is about to throw a punch or two at him. Sicheng only snatches his pillow back and returns to his bed, resuming his studies and ignoring Johnny for at least half an hour. 

When Johnny shows no signs of calming down or shutting the fuck up, Sicheng loudly closes his books, slams them on his desk and walks over to the light switch. He shuts the lights off and gets back in bed with a huff, and it is enough to make Johnny stop for a moment. 

“Go to sleep,” Johnny knows it isn’t a request; it is something he does whenever Johnny is being especially unbearable, and it is code for _shut the fuck up._ “If I hear your voice one more time tonight I am going to smother you to fucking death.” 

Johnny does stop talking, though he doesn’t go to bed anytime soon. He can’t accept it; can’t accept his teammates are against him like this, and their coach too, and now even his best friend? Unbelievable and unacceptable, though he figures there is little he can do at this point. Both Jaehyun and Yibo must have been contacted by Coach Nichkhun already, and all there is left for him to do is accept his fate. 

Maybe he is being irrational, after all, but maybe he isn’t. He didn’t like what he saw on the court today and he doesn’t think any amount of team practice will change his mind. Maybe he should believe Sicheng when he says Yibo is actually good, but until Yibo proves that himself, Johnny will stand his ground. 

Damned be him if he changes his mind. 

Johnny would love to say that his first impression of the new player was wrong, but as the days and weeks pass, he finds it harder to believe that Sicheng is the right one to begin with. It is hard to lead the team when not all players are paying full attention to what you have to say, or when they don’t speak when spoken to, and it is kind of… very frustrating. 

Despite everything, Johnny tries his best to push it back and do his best. For himself and for his team, he really does try his best, and everyone is thankful for it. Johnny himself might be a vital member in the team, but reality is they all are. No one is less important than the other and he makes sure all his teammates know this before and after every practice they have. 

Yibo and Jaehyun seem to be adjusting just fine to the routine and to the way they play, the strategies Coach Nichkhun lays out for them, and that is really all Johnny could ask for above all difficulties. Jaehyun is friendly and easily starts talking when Ten clings to his arm and starts chatting his ear away. Yibo, on the other hand, only seems to ever talk to Seungyoun, and even that is rare to be seen. 

Yibo comes in a couple minutes before practice starts and leaves the second their coach blows the whistle. Johnny has asked Seungyoun on different occasions what was up with his friend for him to behave this way when this isn’t just about coming in, doing your job and then getting the fuck out. To that, Seungyoun’s only answer was a shrug and a pat on the shoulder. 

It’s not easy, and Johnny is really trying, but some days are harder than others, and he isn’t made of steel. 

Johnny has been on the worst mood all day, ever since his Art History III professor asked him to stay for a bit after his seven am class only to tell him that he would need to redo his entire goddamn project, including the main topic for it. Johnny could only smile at her and comply to her wishes, but ever since he walked out of that classroom he has wanted to break every single neck he has seen walk past him. 

He feels like a simmering pot ready to boil. 

He thought he would be able to blow some steam during practice, that things would maybe be easier, but life really likes to play pranks on him, it seems. Everyone seems to keep him at a safe distance, noticing the uncharacteristic scowl on his face and the way he tries his hardest not to talk to anyone. 

Coach seems to have other plans for him, and it looks like is it to push his boundaries to their very limit. Test his patience, maybe. Johnny is usually okay when whatever setup they get for practice when they split into two, but when Nichkhun tells him he is going to be teamed up with Yibo, he knows this isn’t going to end well. 

It’s not that he is looking for trouble, he really isn’t, but as the clock ticks and their practice game progresses Johnny can see there is no way he and Yibo are ever going to work well together. At first he just thinks Yibo has a different strategy in mind, passing the ball to everyone but Johnny, but then it gets clear that isn’t the case at all. 

Johnny can hear the coach scream from across the court that their time is almost up, and Johnny knows if they don’t score this time then their team is going to lose this round. Johnny sprints down the court, yells for Yibo to pass him the goddamn ball because he knows he can get their winning score from where he is, and yet. 

Yibo completely ignores him, dribbles his way around and past Johnny. He dips before he shoots, and the whistle announcing the end of the match blows just as the ball circles the hoop and falls right off without scoring at all. 

Johnny sees red, blood in his eyes, and the entire court goes silent when he turns to look at Yibo, really fucking livid. 

“What the _fuck!_ ” is the first thing he yells, and he can’t hear anything but the buzzing in his ears. Anger boils in his chest and his veins, making his heart race like it hasn’t in a long time. “What the fuck is your problem?!” 

“Johnny—” Yukhei’s voice is so small no one can even hear it. 

“No!” Johnny briefly turns at everyone else, finger raised for them to shut up before they even say anything. Back to Yibo, now pointing said finger at him. “You never fucking listen to me and you never follow my lead. I was telling you to pass me the fucking ball just now so I could score and you, once again, did not listen to me.” 

“John—” it is Kun now, trying to reach out for him, but stepping back when Johnny glares at him. 

“Had this been a real game,” Johnny motions to the court, “we would’ve lost, and it would be your fucking fault!” 

It is silent for a while, and no one dares say a thing. Johnny isn’t one to blow up like that, and it takes so, so much to anger him that they don’t even _know_ what to do. There had been too few occasions where his teammates have seen him angry like this for them to remember how to remedy the situation. 

Yibo, as if throwing gas to the fire, scoffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You think you’re so good, don’t you?” his face is hard as stone, his lips trembling in mild anger. “You think you’re better than everyone in this fucking team just because you were made captain.” 

Johnny wants to laugh and scream at the same time, and the noise that ends up coming out of his mouth is a horrid mix of the two. The tension in the air is palpable. 

“Shut your fucking mouth—” 

“No, _you_ shut the fuck up!” Yibo finally yells, and Johnny can hear everyone else gasp in surprise. Even he is taken aback; he didn’t think Yibo was even capable of raising his voice. “Nothing I do in this fucking place is uninstructed, and if you’ve got a problem with the way I play then you better complain about that to Coach.” 

“Oh no,” Seungyoun whispers to Jaehyun, who nods at him. 

“You think I don’t know what you think of me?” Yibo barks a laugh, stepping closer towards Johnny. Johnny wants to take a step back, but he stays still. “That I’m an arrogant piece of shit? Well, then, so be it. I’m good in what I do and there is nothing you can fucking do about it.” 

The second Johnny’s hand finds the front of Yibo’s jersey, Ten throws his body against Johnny’s legs and immediately tackles him to the floor. Seungyoun rushes to pull Yibo back as well, telling him over and over again to just let it go, and Johnny rages under Ten’s weight. 

“Let go of me!” he yells, trying to push Ten off himself, but Ten pins him to the ground with strength Johnny didn’t know he had in him. 

“No, you calm the fuck down!” Ten roars, then turns back to look at Seungyoun. “Leave with him _right now._ ” 

“ _Must_ you act like an asshole?” Kun groans as he walks over, offering a hand to help him up once Seungyoun and Yibo have left the court. 

“He needs to learn how to play as a team,” Johnny spits, hit heart threatening to break his ribcage. 

“Youngho,” Coach Nichkhun calls from the exit, a serious look on his face. “I expect more from you than this. There better not be a next time, because if there is, I’m suspending you from playing.” 

Johnny wants to protest, wants to snap back and throw out another line of defense, but decides against it. He knows he has already stepped way out of line with Coach and he cannot afford to keep pushing it. 

“Yes, coach.” 

Johnny is nursing a bruise on his knee when Sicheng walks into their shared room, a blank expression on his face. He takes his shoes off, crosses the room, drops his backpack by the end of his bed. Johnny watches him closely – he only acts like this when he has something to say, and that usually isn’t something very nice. 

Sicheng sits on his own bed, brings his legs up and crosses them under his body, and with a deep sigh, he stares right at Johnny’s soul. Johnny stops the massaging of his fingers on the now blackening bruise, now really knowing what is coming for him. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said,” Sicheng folds his hands in his lap, “what the fuck is your problem?” 

Johnny drops his hand from his knee entirely. “I think I need you to be a bit more specific.” 

“Okay,” Sicheng nods, looking like he has all the time in the world to entertain Johnny. “I was out with Yibo just now, before I came here, and I asked how practice went because I was genuinely curious as to how things are going with the team. Do you need me to keep going?” 

Johnny lies on his bed, avoiding eye contact with Sicheng altogether. 

“Then did he tell you about how we lost because of him?” 

“You didn’t have to act like an asshole just because of a practice game,” Sicheng retorts, not buying any of his bullshit. “If there’s something bothering you outside of sports, leave your teammates out of it.” 

“Do you even _know_ what he told me?” Johnny squints at Sicheng, trying not to get angry once again. Yibo’s words play like a broken record in his brain. 

“I, in fact, do,” Sicheng nods. “But only because Seungyoun told me when he was dropping Yibo off, and before you tell me I’m picking sides, I did call him an asshole as well. You’re both horrible.” 

“My professor told me this morning I need to redo my entire project from scratch,” Johnny starts, throwing an arm over his eyes to block the glaring lights. “I don’t have enough time to submit something of quality if I have to redo _all_ of it. It was a bad day with a terrible ending to it.” 

He knows he fucked up by blowing up on Yibo like that, and that he shouldn’t have yelled, and that maybe he should have worded things better than he did, but. He doesn’t take back anything he has said, because his words were true to his feelings. He isn’t going to apologize, and he doesn’t think Yibo will either. 

“First of all, I can help you with your project if it’s within my capabilities,” Sicheng’s voice is a tad gentler, but his face is still void of emotions. “Second of all, be the captain your team needs and trusts you to be. You know this is not how a captain should behave, so be civilized with one another from now on, yeah?” 

Johnny almost pouts. “Yeah.” 

“Your team needs you, John,” Sicheng reminds him, collapsing in his own bed. “They are your friends, too. Don’t make things awkward for everyone.” 

Johnny sighs, but doesn’t say anything else. His head is starting to pound, and his heart rate is picking up again, and he knows he needs to chill out before he gives himself a heart attack. Sometimes, when things are difficult, he wonders if he can really keep basketball as a hobby in his routine. 

Sometimes, when things are difficult, he knows he probably couldn’t do without it. 

Johnny takes a deep breath, then another, trying to even out his breathing as he tries to put himself to sleep. At the end of the day, he knows Sicheng is right. He needs to act like the captain his team and his friends need him to be, and if that means swallowing his own pride and feelings in favor of having a decently good game season then he will definitely do it. 

With game season approaching, Johnny decides it is best for him to take Sicheng’s advice to heart and try to make things work. The days following that whole debacle are a mess, and even Coach Nichkhun seems to be going extra hard on him, but he thinks it is only fair. It is his fault, even if partially, that all that even happened. 

He said some ugly things, Yibo said some ugly things; none of them talk about it, so he leaves it at that. 

It is fortunate that things work out well, in the end, and they are able to make practice peaceful once again. Everyone is high energy and high stress with their first game approaching so fast, but it is as people say – teamwork makes the dream work, and so they are able to smoothly roll into season without much trouble. 

A month prior to their first game, Coach Nichkhun intensifies their practice hours, as well as their gym time. With prolonged hours on-court and working out, Johnny barely has time to catch up with his study materials, which should be fine until the season ends since it isn’t exams season. He sees Sicheng less and less, which is funny because Sicheng himself sees Jaehyun more and more – and would explain why Sicheng barely sleeps in their room most days of the week. 

Spending more time with his teammates is borderline straining, but they try to make their time together as fun as possible without killing each other off. Johnny watches Yibo take a turn with everyone else but himself when they’re on court – he seems to listen to them more often, talk more often, though that is hardly ever directed at Johnny himself. 

He can live with that. 

When the season is on and they are high on adrenaline, none of the friction between their best players seem to matter. Game after game they give the team all they have, and with impeccable teamwork they manage to win most of the games. Coach Nichkhun is over the moon with the sudden change in air, delighted for sure, treating them for dinner every Friday until finals come around. 

It is the halftime of their last game, and Johnny doesn’t know how to feel about it. He feels kind of sick, kind of nervous, but he can’t voice any of it to his teammates. He can see how beat-up they are, Mark’s swollen knee now turning kind of black, worry painted on their faces. 

The team they are playing against is the most aggressive one they have ever encountered, and Johnny doesn’t know if that is just their overall strategy or because they feel threatened by them. They are currently losing the game, and despite knowing things can still change, Johnny feels extremely worried. 

Ten, ever sensitive to how he feels, steps into their little circle in the locker room for a minute, brows drawn into a frown. 

“Listen up, I know these guys fucked us over on the first half but not all is lost.” 

Everyone is quiet, and Johnny heaves a sigh. “Ten is right. We can still win if we do our best—I’m not saying we’ve been slacking so far but it’s time to bring it all out.” 

Seungyoun sticks his hand out into the circle, and Yibo follows right after by placing his own on top of Seungyoun’s. Everyone else does the same, and Johnny does it last. Looking at each one of them, Johnny tries to give them a reassuring smile. 

“Be careful when we go out there,” he starts off, “we’ve seen how aggressive they can be. Take care of yourselves, but do not back down. We’re gonna win this game, we’re gonna win this season and no one can stop us.” 

With one last hooray, Johnny leads them back out to the court, where the crowd on the bleachers roar as they see their green uniforms. From then on, everything is a blur. Johnny can hear the cheer team scream for them, but he can’t for the life of him see anything past the court’s playing area. The red of their opponent’s varsity makes it seem like blood rushing through the court. 

Things go well, for the most part. Coach Nichkhun instructs them to be just as aggressive without actually injuring anyone, and that is exactly what they do. There are sixteen minutes of game left, and Johnny is sure they can do this. He glances at the score just as Yukhei shoots straight into the hoop, screaming so loud his throat starts to hurt. 

The other team, however, gets angrier as the minutes pass. They manage to go mostly unscathed and with minimal fouls, but it doesn’t last long. It is when Kun shoots another score that Johnny sees blood, and the entire court goes quiet. 

A player dressed in red charges towards Yibo, shoulder hitting him right in the middle of his chest, and Yibo doesn’t even have time to think to react before he is being thrown straight into the ground. Johnny is the first one to rush over, offering a hand out for him to take. Yibo seems to be moving in slow motion. 

He holds tightly onto Johnny’s forearm and Johnny tightens his grip on him before helping him back up on his feet. His heart is racing, thundering in his ears, and Johnny feels anger burn in his chest. He saw this coming – of course he saw this coming, it is only natural for the opponent to target the best players like this. 

And yet, he still feels so fucking angry. Yibo is wheezing for air in front of him, body doubled over and face contorted in pain as his free hand comes up to massage his chest. Johnny’s left hand curls into a first. 

“Are you okay?” he asks Yibo, voice laced with both anger and concern. He feels himself start to shake. 

“Yeah,” Yibo answers with a nod, and Johnny isn’t sure he believes him all that much. “I just… need a second.” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill that guy,” Johnny growls through gritted teeth, looking around the court so he can spot the guy who did this. He doesn’t expect Yibo to hold him in place with a gentle hand. 

“I’m okay,” is what Yibo says, and when Johnny looks back down at him, his eyes are gentle like Johnny has never before seen. “Don’t do anything stupid, Johnny, you’re our captain. The team needs you. Please calm down.” 

Johnny’s heart stops beating for a moment, and something inside him feels a bit funny. He doesn’t know what it is, or why the tips of his fingers are suddenly tingling, but it is enough to make him settle. He is still seething when the whistle blows again, signaling that the game needs to keep going, and Yibo gives him a reassuring nod before he dashes down the court. 

The cheering of the crowd pushes Johnny forward, and the entire team seems to be more energized now that the game is coming to an end. One glance at the scoreboard lets Johnny know that, if they score one more time, the trophy is theirs. They are running out of time, and he tries not to let panic overflow. 

Seungyoun passes the ball to him, and Johnny knows what to do. He can see a sea of red rushing to him, ready to get physical, and he dribbles his way through the court, towards the hoop, dodging the players that come to him. His heart feels like it is going to beat itself out of his chest, crushing his ribcage, and the roaring is so loud he can’t hear anything else. 

A group of players block his way, trying to take the ball from him, and Johnny looks around to see what he can do. Yibo is standing a bit further away, arms raised, and over the screaming of the crowd, Johnny can clearly hear him say, 

“Give me the ball!” 

Johnny doesn’t hesitate for a second before passing it to him, and his heart stops beating once the ball is in Yibo’s hands and he takes too long to react. He can hear Coach Nichkhun yell from the bench, can hear their teammates yell around them, and before Johnny can open his mouth to yell, too, Yibo dips, then shoots. 

Johnny gets flashback to the day he blew up on Yibo, to the anger he felt—he can’t breathe. The difference from then to now is that this is a real game, and this time the ball does go through the hoop just as the timer goes off. Johnny spins around fast, glances at the score, and euphoria floods through his body. 

Their team and their coach rush towards them, bringing them into a group hug. Everyone is screaming and laughing and Johnny laughs, too, mostly in disbelief. Yukhei and Seungyoun help get both him and Yibo up in the air, and Johnny screams because he doesn’t trust them all that much to toss him around like that, but he feels genuine happiness spread through his body. 

When they are back on the floor, Johnny’s face hurting from smiling so much, he does something he never really expected to. He grabs Yibo, who is starting to walk off, by the wrist and brings him into a hug. They are sweaty and smelly, and his heart is beating like crazy, but he owes Yibo as much. 

Yibo, on the other hand, doesn’t know what is going on or what to do, so he just accepts the hug until Johnny lets go of him. 

“You did it!” Johnny yells, laughing hysterically. “We won because of _you!_ ” 

“No, Captain,” there is the faintest of smiles playing on Yibo’s lips, and Johnny only notices because he is standing too close. “ _We_ did it. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?” 

Johnny is so dumbstruck he can’t even say anything to that. Yibo nods at him once and walks off and towards the locker room, and a flood of people engulf him in one big group hug. Johnny allows himself to be carried away with the congratulatory yells, the pats on the back and the occasional hugs. 

It is a while later, when everyone is gone and he is left alone in the locker room, that Johnny collapses on the bench and allows himself to think. 

He isn’t stupid; he isn’t completely oblivious to the way his body works and feels, and he knows something is off. Something is different – the world shifted on its axis and he feels a little, just a tiny little bit, lost. 

He sighs, crouching over and bringing his head into his hands. His hair, still wet from the shower, drips down on the floor and his still bare feet. What the fuck is going on with him? It has been months since The Incident happened, and it sure should be enough for both of them to get over it, so is that what is happening? 

He definitely saw a smile playing on Yibo’s lips, and he can’t quite explain the amount of rage he felt when he saw Yibo be shouldered to the floor. He is sure he would have felt the same had it been any of his friends—at least he wants to think he would. 

He hears footsteps walk into the room and his head quickly snaps up. It’s Sicheng – cheeks streaked green, smile big on his lips. 

“Hey there, Captain,” he greets, and Johnny immediately smiles. “Are you gonna stay in here all night or are we going back home?” 

“Shit, is it already this late?” he quickly rises to his feet, looking around for his phone. “Fuck, Sicheng, I’m sorry. I thought you had left with Jaehyun?” 

Sicheng waves him off. “Don’t worry about it, just grab your things and we’ll get going. Jaehyun was tired to the bone, so I sent him off to get as much sleep as he can and rest for a while.” 

Johnny’s smile is lopsided, but he doesn’t say anything about the matter. They haven’t directly talked about the topic, and if Sicheng isn’t ready to say it himself then Johnny isn’t going to press. As long as he is happy and satisfied with whatever this is, then Johnny will be too. 

When he and Sicheng arrive home, he falls asleep the second his back hits the mattress, the events of the day playing like a movie behind his closed lids. 

He feels utterly happy, but his chest feels oddly weird. 

The break they get once game season is over is more than well deserved, Coach Nichkhun giving them a couple weeks to recover. They take rounds on checking up on Mark, who is locked up in his dorm room due to his injured knee. More often than not, they sit down together for lunch, and Johnny wonders just how much they look like a group of jocks from the movies. 

He hasn’t seen Yibo since game night and Johnny supposes that is okay. It was hard to catch him around campus even when they were practicing every day, so he figures it is only normal for him to go back to seclusion now that he doesn’t have the obligation to go out. Still, it makes Johnny itch and leaves him restless. He never got the chance to ask if the shoulder to his chest left any actual bruising. 

It is their last Friday off and Johnny wanders through the dorm buildings, thinking about all the projects he should be working on and all the papers he will have to hand in during the upcoming month. He is trying his best not to fall into despair and not to let stress get the better of him. 

He takes a moment to appreciate the greenery around him, in parts of the campus he never really bothered going to, and momentary peace washes over him. There isn’t a single soul around to be seen, and he hasn’t seen a familiar face in a while now. It feels good, he thinks, to have this time for himself. 

It doesn’t really last long, as everything else in his life. Johnny can hear the soft grunts of a person to his right, a little bit further ahead, and the sound of a ball hitting the floor, then metal, and then the floor again. Johnny knows that pattern all too well. Excited, he walks a little bit closer. 

He finds Yibo, glistening under the soft glow of the setting sun, shooting hoops by himself. Johnny keeps his distance, watches him for a while, and something inside him feels a bit funny. It is the first time he sees Yibo out of their jerseys, and he has got to admit—he looks really good in his casual attire. 

Johnny doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring, watching him play on his own. It could have been a minute or two, or it could have been twenty or so minutes – Yibo never really notices his presence. Johnny watches his face go from focused to frustrated, back to focused and then to delighted. He sees Yibo laugh to himself and it feels like the air is being punched straight out of his chest. 

To himself, and ever so quietly, Johnny thinks he wants to make Yibo smile like that himself. 

Yibo only notices his presence when he starts walking closer, slowly, and the ball almost hits him in the face when it bounces off the wall. He catches it before it does, though, and Johnny almost trips on his feet as he rushes a bit. Yibo is glancing at him, not saying a word, looking a bit wary. Johnny doesn’t blame him. 

“Hey,” he offers, and Yibo clutches the ball a bit tighter, looking like he is ready for confrontation. Johnny tries his best to put a smile on his face when he points at the ball and says, “Do you wanna play?” 

He doesn’t expect Yibo to nod at him, but he does, and Johnny feels like he has just won the lottery. He discards his jacket on the ground and puts his phone away as well, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he readies himself. Yibo snorts at him but doesn’t really say anything, bouncing the ball on the ground as he waits. 

It has been so long Johnny has played one-on-one with anyone he had forgotten just how fun it is to play without having to worry so much. Yibo is a good adversary to him, his skills indeed just as good as his own, and it feels—exciting. Thrilling, even. 

They block each other, making it hard for the other to make scores, and when they do it is only because of a slip up. Johnny can see the fire in Yibo’s eyes, can see how charged up and he is to have someone play against him like this. And then Yibo laughs, open and unfiltered, wide and all teeth, unabashed as he dribbles away from him and the world suddenly stops spinning. 

Johnny knows, in that moment, that he is a goner. 

He manages to snatch the ball off Yibo’s hand and dribbles away from him. When Yibo comes close he dribbles back, trying to get a shot in. When Yibo starts blocking him with his back, it is the first time he notices their height difference – Yibo is just slightly shorter than him, short enough for his elbow to dig right at his sternum, too deep. 

Johnny stops dribbling and drops the ball, doubling over as he tries to catch his breath, his chest hurting. Yibo spins around too fast, concern written all over his face. 

“Fuck, oh God, did I hurt you?” He bends his knees so he is eye level with Johnny, placing a hand on his shoulder. Johnny can see his brows disappear behind his bangs, eyes wide. “I’m sorry!” 

“Never thought I’d hear you say those words,” Johnny says, laughing as he rubs his chest in an attempt to rub the pain away. 

He straightens his back and so does Yibo. Yibo is staring at him, staring right through him, and the air around them shifts somehow. There is something going on – Johnny doesn’t know what it is, but he can sense it. 

“Yeah, well,” Yibo laughs softly, “You’ll find I’m capable of saying many words you don’t expect from me.” 

Johnny doesn’t know if he is imagining the brief shift of Yibo’s eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. 

“Oh yeah?” he challenges. “Like what?” 

Yibo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps up to Johnny, into his personal bubble, and Johnny feels like he is suffocating. They are both panting, and there is no one else around to see them, and this time he definitely doesn’t imagine the way Yibo shifts his gaze to his lips because he lingers, and says, 

“Like, ‘would you hate it if I kissed you?’” 

Johnny takes a breath, then two, just to make sure he hasn’t passed out yet. 

“Never expected those words either,” he says, and he can see the corners of Yibo’s mouth quirking up just as he licks his lips. He doesn’t fucking know what to do. They’re close, so close, just a breath away. 

Is this it? Was their rivalry, all this time, just a farce for their attraction? 

Johnny is sure he is losing his fucking mind. 

Yibo is still looking at him, expectant, and Johnny raises a brow at him, as if questioning what is it that he wants. And then it hits him that this is really it, so he cups Yibo’s jaw, brushes his lower lip with his thumb, fascinated with how red they look. He is waiting. 

They are both waiting. 

And Yibo nods, just once, and Johnny is there not a second after, sliding his lips against Yibo’s, and God, does it feel good. The way they kiss is beyond hungry, beyond ravenous, like they have been waiting for this moment their entire lives, and Johnny can’t quite comprehend it. 

Yibo’s tongue is hot against his, gliding with ease, tasting every bit of his mouth and his head is spinning, knees starting to go weak. Johnny deepens the kiss, places his other hand on Yibo’s hip and pulls him closer, closer until their chests are touching, not a breath between them. 

Yibo is the one to pull away first, despite looking like he didn’t really want to. Johnny blinks up at him, confused, trying to pull him back in but Yibo stops him with a hand on his wrist. There is a smile dancing on his lips, his cheeks flushed red and Johnny knows he has finally lost it. 

“Let me take you back to my place,” Yibo says, voice hoarse. Johnny’s knees really do start giving way. He can’t find the words to answer – his brain draws blank, short-circuiting, and Yibo tilts his head to the side. “If you want to?” 

“Yes,” Johnny breathes, tightening his hold on him. “ _Yes._ ” 

Yibo’s dorm apartment is just around the block, and Johnny learns that he is living on his own. It feels appropriate, he thinks, with the way he slams Yibo against the door before he is even able to lock it. 

“Easy, Captain,” Yibo laughs into his mouth when they kiss again, and it turns into a moan when Johnny’s hands grab him by the backs of his thighs to hoist him up. “Let me lock this sucker fist.” 

Johnny didn’t think hearing Yibo call him captain would make his guts twist the way it does, and yet his dick strains against his zipper just at the mention of that very word. It is a title he carries on his back, one that Yibo is now using to rile him up and make him horny, and Johnny is losing it. The kiss is almost bruising, the kind that leaves you breathless and craving for more. 

And Johnny wants so, so much more. 

He grinds against Yibo’s ass when he carries him up and presses him harder against the door, the zipper of his jeans uncomfortable against his dick but the pain good enough to get him hard. Yibo moans at the contact, grinds against Johnny as well and Johnny notices, through the soft fabric of his sweats, just how hard he already is. 

This is their tipping point. Johnny knows, one way or the other, there is no coming back from here. 

He trails his kisses from Yibo’s mouth to his jaw and down to his neck, licking the junction with his shoulder before biting lightly on his skin. Yibo moans just a little bit louder, his head hitting the wooden door with a loud bang. Johnny tries his best to hold back his laughter. 

“Will you let me fuck you?” Johnny asks against his skin. _Please say yes,_ he thinks to himself. 

“Yeah,” is Yibo’s immediate response before he adds, “under one condition.” 

Johnny’s dick pulses in his pants. 

“Anything you want.” 

Yibo brings both his hands to Johnny’s neck, scraping his fingernails up his nape and into his hair. “I’ll let you fuck me if you let me fuck you after.” 

Johnny pulls back, a bit taken aback, to stare into his eyes. He is unwavering, lips slightly parted as he lightly pants, and all Johnny can think to himself is—why the fuck not? 

So, he nods, then says, “Alright,” and Yibo is pushing his own weight down, getting his feet back on the ground so he can pull Johnny towards his bed. He pushes a stack of books off the mattress, letting them fall to the ground with several loud thuds, and Johnny is too preoccupied unzipping his pants and pushing it down his legs to comment how that is probably going to damage the books. 

Yibo is quicker than he is to undress, having worn sweats and a light shirt for the day. Johnny watches with hungry eyes as he climbs into bed and rests against the headboard, stark naked as he watches Johnny undress himself, only breaking eye contact to reach over to his bedside table to get lube and condoms. 

Johnny doesn’t try to put on a show, too horny to even think about doing it anyway, in a hurry to pull his shirt over his head and toss it somewhere in the room. He climbs into bed then, trying not to seem too eager, and Yibo grabs him by the hair to bring him down into yet another kiss. 

This is months of angry stares, of venomous words and nearly physical aggression. It is words none of them ever dared to say, or ever knew to say, unaware that any of this was even there. As Johnny spreads lube on his fingers and Yibo spreads his legs for him, Johnny thinks it is quite funny how they didn’t notice it before. 

Yibo opens up for him with ease, Johnny sliding a finger, then two, then three with little resistance. He wants to ask how long it has been since he did this, with whoever it may be, but doesn’t think it is ever his place to ask. He focuses on the way Yibo’s brows draw together when Johnny presses against his prostate, how his lips shine under the shitty light of his dorm room, how his cheeks flush when he grips his bedsheets ever to tightly. 

Johnny could play him for an eternity, but he doesn’t have forever and his dick is starting to ache between his legs. When he pulls his fingers out Yibo sighs, chest shaking as he tries to catch his breath. He is beautiful, really, his toned muscles clenching with every breath he takes. Something inside Johnny burns, and he itches to act on it. 

Yibo rolls on the condom for him and Johnny has to try really hard not to come right on the spot, the smallest of touches getting him on the edge. 

“Get on your hands and knees,” he rasps out as he lazily fists himself, and Yibo does as he is told without much hesitation. 

Johnny runs a hand up Yibo’s back, the other holding himself steady and pressing his cockhead to his entrance. Yibo keens when he presses in, arms shaking as he takes deep breaths to try to adjust. Johnny is shaking, too, feeling dizzy with how tight Yibo feels around him, with how warm he feels around him. 

“Just keep going,” Yibo breathes, and Johnny wants to tell him no, but Yibo is pushing back on him, hurrying him up, and he doesn’t have it in him to stop. 

Yibo is panting hard by the time Johnny is buried to the hilt, Johnny himself unable to contain his moans as Yibo clenches hard around his dick, trying to adjust. Johnny takes the hand on Yibo’s back to his neck, closes it around his throat and pulls his body up and off the bed, Yibo’s back flush against Johnny’s chest. 

The new position makes Yibo moan, loud, and Johnny takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth and kiss him senseless. Johnny rocks his hips once, twice, testing the waters, and Yibo moans into his mouth, his hands coming up to grip at Johnny’s forearm. The kiss is as messy as the rocking of his hips, which works great when Yibo won’t stop softly gasping into his mouth. 

Johnny digs his foot deep into the mattress, holding himself on Yibo’s hip before he pulls almost all the way back. He snaps his hips back with so much force Yibo’s body jolts forward, a moan coming out as a hiccup from impact. The noise his hipbones make when he smacks against his ass is loud, and Johnny secretly wishes the people living next door can hear it. 

There is no waiting, no slowing down. The pace in which Johnny fucks Yibo is fast and erratic, pent-up frustration getting the best of him. He moans directly into Yibo’s ear, makes him moan louder and louder, and Johnny loves every second of it. Yibo meets every snap of his hips with enthusiasm, Johnny’s name coming out of his mouth in gasps. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, sweat on his brow. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

Yibo’s back on his chest, his thighs, the hold he has on his wrist, is hot like a brand, and Johnny’s head is swimming, a static that only barely registers that he is fucking into his teammate and that he hasn't felt this good in forever. He can barely fathom this pleasure, especially when Yibo starts running his mouth, breath hot when he presses his lips to Johnny's cheek, whispering filth that Johnny would never even dare to think. 

"I knew you'd feel this good," Yibo says brokenly, and he snaps his mouth shut, a groan taking over as Johnny's next thrust shakes him. Johnny doesn’t know what to think, mind drawing blank at the insinuation that Yibo has thought about this before, driving him crazy. 

Yibo drags a hand from Johnny’s wrist to place it over the hold Johnny has on his throat, slowly adding pressure to it and Johnny really, finally loses it. He can’t pace the snapping of his hips, can’t hear shit over the buzzing in his ears, can’t think past the fact that Yibo is choking himself with the hand Johnny has on his neck. 

Johnny feels the coiling in his stomach get tighter, his toes starting to go numb and his chest heaving as he gasps for air. He takes the hand on Yibo’s hip to his dick, jerking him off at the same fast, messy pace he fucks into him and Yibo trembles, muscles going rigid as he curls into himself. 

“Are you gonna come?” Johnny asks, thumbing at his slit, smearing precum over the head and jerking him loosely. 

“Yeah,” Yibo’s voice is broken, the hold he has on Johnny’s hand tightening, constricting his airways even more. Johnny is so fucking close to coming. “Make me come, Cap.” 

It is the push Johnny needs to let go of his neck and press him face down on the mattress, adjusting his angle to fuck deeper into him. Yibo’s moans are muffled, his hand jerking himself off when Johnny lets go in favor to find leverage on his hips. The buildup comes quickly, pleasure zipping down his spine until Johnny stills for a second as he comes into the condom. 

Yibo comes shortly after, moaning at the warmth he feels even through the latex, making a mess of his hand and his sheets when Johnny slowly starts fucking into him again. Johnny fucks Yibo through both their orgasms, until Yibo is squirming under him and trying to push him off. 

Johnny pulls out not long after, tying off the condom and throwing it in the bin Yibo has placed right next to his bed. Yibo is still panting for air when Johnny kneels next to him and pushes his body to the side until he is laying on his back. Johnny positions himself between Yibo’s legs, and when Yibo raises a brow at him, all he really does is offer him a lopsided smile. 

He places his hands in Yibo’s hips, thumbs digging into his hipbones, making his thighs shake. Yibo still has his hand around his dick, sticky and covered in cum, fingers tight around the base. Johnny places a gentle kiss on his pelvis, earning a soft gasp from the boy beneath him, and it is the encouragement he needs to keep on going. 

Johnny kisses all the way down to his thighs, peppers the warm skin with soft kiss until Yibo is squirming under him, torn between getting him off and wanting him to keep going. Yibo doesn’t vocalize for him to stop, so Johnny moves his hands from his hips to his thighs and spreads them further open, giving him more working room. 

Johnny takes his time, allows the both of them to catch their breath, bask in the comedown of their first afterglow. Yibo's skin is soft, the smoothness of the inside of his thighs the perfect place for Johnny to press his lips against. 

The kisses are slow, languid, like they are gliding through water, Yibo's fingers tangling in Johnny's hair and gently tugging every so often. 

He watches with satisfaction what the kisses do to Yibo, watches as his lips part in silent moans and his dick steadily gets harder again. He isn’t far behind, slowly grinding against the soft bedsheets and feeling his stomach twist and turn once again. Yibo’s skin is soft under his lips and Johnny wants nothing more than to bite on it, leave a bruise, but he isn’t sure this is a boundary he is allowed to cross – so he doesn’t. 

Johnny kisses all the way back up, up his thigh, his torso, his neck, his lips. Yibo kisses him with urgency, spilling into him all the noises he had been holding back the moment Johnny grinds against his hip. It is already so much and not enough—Johnny needs more, and he doesn’t hold back on asking for it. 

“You said you were gonna fuck me,” he murmurs against Yibo’s lips, and Yibo’s entire body shivers. “You better keep your word.” 

“I will, Cap,” Johnny can hear the grin on his voice as he places a hand on Johnny’s chest and pushes him until he is lying on his back. “I never go back on my word. Just—hold of for a second.” 

Yibo disappears into what Johnny supposes is his bathroom, and Johnny can’t even hear his own thoughts over the sound of running water. He grips his own dick by the base, lazily stroking himself just so he will keep the pleasing buzz under his skin. When Yibo comes back, his skin is freshly clean, and he immediately reaches for the bottle of lube. 

“Don’t—” Johnny swallows around the sudden lump in his throat when he sees Yibo squeeze the gel onto his fingers, “don’t go easy on it.” 

Yibo smirks. “You need more lube, Cap?” 

Johnny feels like his face is going to catch on fire, and when he can’t find the words to answer, he resorts to nodding. It’s not that he is embarrassed, it’s just… the fucking smug look on Yibo’s face, the way he carries himself, the way he licks his lips before he lays with his stomach on his bed between Johnny’s spread legs. 

It is messy, and that is mostly on Johnny for being unable to stay still, for asking for even more lube when Yibo barely has a full finger into him. Yibo’s hand is slicker than it needs to be but none of them seem so mind, Yibo almost cooing at him when Johnny’s chest starts heaving as he pants, feeling kind of desperate. 

Two fingers seem to shatter Johnny’s soul, and although he isn’t one to be too loud, he is sure Yibo can see it in the furrow of his brows, his lips slightly parted and drool starting to collect at the corners of his mouth. Yibo’s fingers feel so good inside him Johnny can’t even control the way his body reacts. 

And oh, does it react so, _so_ actively. Yibo scissors his fingers, trying to loosen him up, his lips coming to his inner thighs to try and get him to relax. All he gets from Johnny are his thighs tensing where they rest over his shoulders and, oh— _oh_. 

“Fuck,” Johnny curses so loud and so hoarsely he can’t even recognize his own voice. Yibo moves his fingers again, brushing over his prostate again, and Johnny has to grip himself tightly at the base of his cock so he doesn’t come on the spot. He is already so on edge, so sensitive and so hyperaware of everything he almost starts begging. “I’m ready,” he pants, “give it to me.” 

Yibo scoffs. “You’re so tight I’m going to cum the moment I bottom out.” 

“Do it,” Johnny is almost demanding, and Yibo’s movements still. 

Yibo listens to him, because Johnny is supposed to know himself better than he does. Johnny watches through half-lidded eyes as he rips a foiled pack open and rolls the condom on himself. 

“Hey, Cap,” Yibo taps his thigh gently, “roll over.” 

Johnny blinks at him. “Huh?” 

The smile on Yibo’s lips is devilish but not unkind. “On your stomach. It’ll feel better that way, trust me.” 

Johnny does, and his heart nearly stops beating when Yibo spreads his cheeks apart and starts pressing the tip of his cock against his rim. He is teasing, applying pressure and then not, testing the waters and Johnny really, really wants to yell at him. 

He doesn’t yell, but he definitely groans very loudly when Yibo finally does push in, and the sting is so much it makes his vision go black for a few seconds. He doesn’t know if he is the one shaking or if it is Yibo, all he knows is that the sting is searing, and he almost regrets not waiting a bit longer. 

“When was the last time you did this?” Yibo pants, his bangs ticking Johnny’s shoulder. 

“By this you mean—” Johnny holds onto a pillow when Yibo shifts his hips, “—take it in the ass?” 

Yibo laughs. “You were smoother on the basketball court, Cap.” 

“Yibo, I want your dick in me,” he groans, running out of air, “what else do I need to tell you? It’s been, like, half a year since I’ve wanted anyone to do this, so would you _please_ fuck me—” 

His words get choked up in his throat when Yibo grips onto his shoulder and pushes all the way in. He can’t breathe, he feels dizzy, his ass stings but it feels so fucking _good_. He muffles a moan into the pillow he is holding, his muscles tensing up as he tries to adjust to the size of Yibo’s cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Yibo curses, his voice sounding distant despite the heat of his body being pressed directly on Johnny’s back. “Fuck, Johnny, what the fuck. I’m really gonna come.” 

“Fuck me,” Johnny asks, and Yibo complies. 

His movements are slow at first, kind of careful, sensing that Johnny hasn’t yet fully adjusted to him, but always constant. Johnny thinks, despite being grateful for the care, that this is even more maddening than if he would just do it like he means it. He voices as much and Yibo almost laughs at him, biting on his shoulder to shut him the hell up. 

With every slow drag of his cock on his walls, rocking deep inside him, Johnny can feel Yibo’s cockhead almost brush against his prostate, missing it by so little every single time. He moves his own hips, meeting Yibo’s lazy thrusts once the sting subdues and starts giving way to pleasure. 

His head is swimming and it almost feels like drowning, with Yibo pulling him back to surface every time he pulls out almost all the way and then pushing him back in when he snaps his hips just a tad bit too hard. It makes Johnny’s heart thrum in his ribcage, his fingertips buzzing in pleasure, his senses going numb. 

It feels good. It feels so fucking good Johnny can’t even remember when the last time was that someone fucked him like this. He can’t snake a hand between his body and the bed to jerk himself off, though it doesn’t really matter – as Yibo picks up his pace, his body jolts against the sheets, rubbing his dick raw on the soft cotton bedding. 

Yibo places a hand on his thigh and rakes his leg up the bed, changing their positions and _fuck_ does it feel better like this. Yibo’s body is practically glued to his, his breathing hard and ragged on the back of his neck. The new position gives Yibo the perfect angle to ram right into his prostate, and it is then that Johnny knows he isn’t really going to last much longer. 

Every thrust against his prostate makes him see white, makes his body shake and he is starting to be unable to silence his moans. He doesn’t want to be loud, it’s not in his character to ever be loud, but the way Yibo is fucking hard into him, panting in his ear, makes him let out the most broken of moans. 

The coiling in his stomach tightens and his toes start to curl, body squirming in desperate need for release. He spreads his legs further open, trying to meet Yibo’s thrusts but it is futile. Yibo holds him down by the hips, hands so strong Johnny thinks it might bruise, and _god—_ the image of Yibo holding him so tight it might leave bruises really tips him over. 

“Yibo,” he gasps, trying to reach back for him, “hey— _fuck_ , Yibo, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” Yibo pants, like he knows Johnny is about to come – he probably does, by the way Johnny is clenching around him. Johnny doesn’t want to come on his sheets, doesn’t want to soil the fabric even further, but Yibo is unrelenting on the force of his thrusting. “Do it, Captain. Cum all over my sheets.” 

Johnny doesn’t ever come on command but hearing Yibo call him captain for the fiftieth fucking time that day does it for him, and he doesn’t even know why. His orgasm hits him like a fucking wave crashing, so hard he blacks out for several moments. Yibo finds it hard to keep on moving when Johnny clenches around him but he doesn’t stop, fucking him through his orgasm and then some. 

He only pulls out when Johnny comes back to it and complains of oversensitivity, being considerate enough not to push his limits too much. Johnny doesn’t have the energy to turn on his back and Yibo doesn’t let him either, one hand firmly holding him down by the hip as the other rips his condom away and holds himself by the base of his dick. 

Johnny hears it more than he sees it, the slick noise of Yibo jerking himself off, his pants getting louder and louder by the minute. Johnny wants to turn back, to look at him, but Yibo’s grip on him is deathly and so he is unable to move. 

When Yibo comes, it is in hot spurts and all over Johnny’s back, over his ass and Johnny gasps at the feeling. Yibo is moaning brokenly, so low he can barely register it, but he can feel the way his hand on him shakes until he stops coming. Yibo collapses next to Johnny not a moment after, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Johnny, staring at him, barely knows what to say. 

“Wow,” is what his brain comes up with, and when Yibo laughs lightly, Johnny feels very, very stupid. “I haven’t—I haven’t come untouched in over a year—” 

“Well,” Yibo turns on his back, staring at the ceiling for a while before turning his head to Johnny. “Glad to offer you the opportunity.” 

“What the fuck,” Johnny tries to roll on his back too, glad that Yibo’s bed is bigger than it needs to be, getting away from his own drying cum. “What the fuck is this kind of witchery.” 

Yibo coos at him. “Captain, it is so sad that you don’t have anyone who can fuck you good.” 

“That’s not—” he doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so flustered. “I just never really feel like it.” 

Yibo leans on his elbow, grinning at him. “Does that mean I’m the first one in a while to turn you on so much you wanted to get dicked by me?” 

He is so fucking cheeky Johnny almost wants to punch him in the face. 

“Shut up,” he grunts, looking up at the ceiling. “Go back to not saying a word.” 

“Alright,” Yibo says with an airily laugh. “Bathroom’s right there. You can use my towel; I’ll just get a new one later.” 

Johnny gets off bed on wobbly legs, and as much as he does not want to admit it, he has a hard time crossing the short distance to the bathroom. His legs are sore and so is his ass, and the small of his back also kind of hurts, but he still tries his best to at the very least keep a proper posture on so he doesn’t give himself away too much. 

“Hey, Cap,” Yibo calls out and Johnny braces himself for the worst. He can hear the fucking smug smile on his voice. “I think you need to bottom more often.” 

Johnny would have thrown something at him if he had anything in his hand. 

“I think you need to _shut the fuck up,_ ” he bites, closing the bathroom door behind himself. 

The shower spray is warm over his head and on his body, and Johnny doesn’t allow his own thoughts to wander very far. He can’t grasp them around whatever the fuck happened today, doesn’t really know what he is supposed to feel or what Yibo himself feels about it. All he knows, for now, is that he had a really good time and that he feels really, really good. 

When he walks back into the room, towel wrapped around his waist so he can fetch his clothes, Yibo has already stripped his bed of the dirty sheets and replaced it for fresh ones. He rests with his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone as some soft music plays from his speakers. When he sees Johnny looking for his clothes, Yibo raises a brow at him. 

“You’re leaving?” He doesn’t sound upset, but Johnny thinks it sounds a lot like he doesn’t believe it. 

“Yes?” Johnny answers with a question, suddenly hesitating. “It’s going to be awkward if I stay... no?” 

Yibo still has his phone in his hand, the device dinging with new messages. “Is it going to be for you?” 

“I mean—” 

“Stay,” Yibo cuts him off, scooting over to the side to give him space. “Get some rest, I don’t mind.” 

Johnny hesitates for another minute, his brain whirring loudly, his guts a fucking mess. He tries not to read into it but it is hard not to, seeing as he never lets any of his one-night-stands stay after they fuck, and he never stays himself when it isn’t his own place. He reaches for his boxers and slips it on before reaching for his phone and climbing into bed. 

It is mostly silent from them on, Yibo’s music never ceasing to play even as he goes to take a shower himself. Johnny doesn’t recognize what is playing, but the songs in itself are good so he doesn’t really mind. He sends a text to Sicheng to let him know he won’t be going back to their room until the next day, to which Sicheng only replies with a thumbs up emoji. 

He is already half asleep when Yibo comes out of the bathroom, humming to a tune Johnny also doesn’t recognize. Johnny thinks Yibo is talking to him, asking him something that he can’t make sense of. His vision is blurry and he feels so tired he passes out the second Yibo hits the lights and floods his room with darkness. 

Johnny doesn’t know at what time he comes to it, but he supposes it must already be past six in the morning, with the way the soft glow of the early hours of the day filters through Yibo’s curtains. His tongue feels like it is glued to the roof of his mouth and his eyelids are heavy as he tries to rub sleep off them. When he turns his head to the side, he doesn’t find Yibo there. 

He then notices the smell of fresh food and the sizzling of a pan, and there is still music playing even though it must have been hours since he fell asleep. Sitting up, Johnny finds Yibo’s mostly undressed form standing in his kitchen area, jamming to whatever song is playing as he works around the space. 

Yibo glances at his bed when he notices movement. The corner of his mouth raises in a smug smile, and Johnny sees something flash in his eyes. 

“Hey, Captain,” Johnny has lost count how many times Yibo has greeted him like that by now, and something inside him stirs. It is too early for him to get horny. “How do you like your eggs?” 

“God,” Johnny rubs his eyes again, trying to think of something else that isn’t Yibo pressed down his bed, or Johnny himself pressed down on Yibo’s bed. “Can you please not call me that?” He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “Uhm, scrambled.” 

Yibo's body doubles over when he laughs, pulling himself away from the stovetop. 

“There isn’t much and I'm not the best cook but,” he motions with his spatula at a plate. “We have pancakes and eggs. Don’t hold it against me if it tastes bad.” 

Seeing as there is only one chair in the room by Yibo’s desk, which is currently being used as either his hamper or his closet, Johnny waits until he is done cooking and bringing the food to his bed. It smells and looks good, the pancakes looking perfectly fluffy and the right amount of golden – Johnny thinks there is no way it tastes bad. 

When he takes the first bite, though, he is glad he didn’t say anything out loud. It's not that it is bad, it’s just... so fucking bland. And kind of dry. Johnny doesn’t say anything, grateful to even have anything to quell the hunger he is feeling. He doesn’t know how Yibo can seem so unaffected by his own bad cooking. 

Johnny is pulling his clothes back on when Yibo gets more comfortable in bed, watching his every move. He can feel his face heat up, hands kind of clammy as he pulls his pants up his legs. Yibo flashes him a too bright smile. 

“I told you I'm not a good cook,” Johnny opens his mouth to say something back, but Yibo waves him off before he gets the chance to. “I know it was bad. Took me a while to get used to it.” 

“It wasn’t _that_ bad—” 

“No need to flatter me,” his smile doesn’t falter. “Do you know how to cook?” 

Johnny nods, pulling his shirt over his head. “A couple things, nothing too fancy.” 

“I see,” Yibo says with a nod. He stares straight into Johnny’s eyes. “Maybe I should get someone to teach me a thing or two.” 

Johnny gapes at him, the smile on Yibo’s lips confirming that there is an underlining meaning to it that he doesn’t want to think about at this very moment. He grabs his jacket, then his phone, and starts heading for the door. 

“I guess I'll see you around?” he glances at Yibo as he slips his shoes on. Yibo nods at him. 

“Okay.” 

Johnny detests how warm everything gets as the seasons change, and he is forever grateful for every bit of shade he can get as he strolls through campus. He has Sicheng on his left, chatting his ear away about some game update Johnny isn’t sure he quite understands but is grateful for, if only so he can get his mind off things for a while. 

He hasn’t told Sicheng about what happened on Friday, and judging by Sicheng’s lack of inquiry about it, Johnny figures Yibo hasn’t told him either. It is good like this – he doesn’t think he can find the right words to tell Sicheng about whatever the fuck happened. 

What even happened? 

They met, they fucked. That is all there is to it, isn’t it? People have one-night-stands all the time. 

It isn’t that deep. 

Johnny sighs, mostly to himself, and it is so quiet Sicheng doesn’t even notice. Johnny convinces himself he is doing quite fine in not thinking too much about it—that is, until the record scratches and the world stops spinning. 

He wishes he was just being dramatic. 

He can see Yibo chatting with Seungyoun off in the distance, a smile playing on his lips as they chatter animatedly. If Sicheng notices him as well, he doesn’t say anything about it nor makes move to get closer to him. To Sicheng, they can’t stand each other. 

The thing is – Yibo sees them, too. Very unlike Sicheng, or Johnny himself, Yibo turns his entire body in their direction, and the smile on his lips starts widening— Johnny is starting to feel dizzy. 

“Hey, Captain!” Yibo yells across the quad with an excited wave of his hand. “See you at practice!” 

Johnny stops dead on his tracks, and it is not out of his own free will or because his legs no longer move. Sicheng is the first to stop walking, stretching out his arm so Johnny runs straight into his balled fist. 

Johnny groans in pain, hands coming to his stomach as his body doubles over. When he looks at Sicheng, Sicheng is glaring at him. 

“What is going on?” Sicheng asks, voice low and deadly, and Johnny doesn’t know if he can answer anything that isn’t the truth to that question. He watches as Sicheng looks at Yibo and then back at him again, as if trying to add things up. When Johnny doesn’t say anything, but instead keeps groaning in pain, Sicheng squints. “I’ve got my eyes on you.” 

Johnny feels threatened, and yet he still doesn’t say anything about the matter. The punch wasn’t even supposed to hurt, but he could still feel his lunch coming right back up. He knows better than to mess with Sicheng. 

Practice goes as well as it can be – he doesn’t have time to focus on much else when Coach Nichkhun is yelling their ears off. Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny catches glimpses of Yibo smiling, laughing when he collides into Yukhei and both are sent flying in opposite directions. No one makes a single remark on how different he seems – or, maybe, he is different to Johnny only. 

Yibo plays more aggressively towards him, but in a very strange, friendly way. He tries to get more steals, purposefully dribbles right past him, or bumps shoulders with Johnny in every opportunity he can get. It is starting to drive him insane, and Johnny couldn’t feel more thankful when Coach’s whistle resonates through the court, signaling the end of their practice time. 

Johnny is the last one to leave for the lockers, staying behind to shoot some free throws even after the lights are out, promising their coach he will nearly put everything away once he is done. He feels tired, exhausted almost, but he needs to get the extra energy off his system somehow. 

When he makes it to his locker, everyone is already gone. There is steam still coming from the showers, and Johnny sighs as he toes his shoes off and feels moisture under his feet. He pulls his jersey off, throws his towel over his shoulder and makes his way to the common showers. 

Johnny doesn’t expect to find the lights there still on, and he expects it even less for the door to slam shut right behind him. His blood runs cold when he hears the sound of keys turning, locking him inside the bathroom – he can’t believe he is about to die naked, in the shower. 

A wet palm runs down his back and Johnny shivers. He is torn between turning back to face his assailant and just closing his eyes and accepting his faith when a pair of warm lips presses right against the shell of his ear. 

“Hey, Cap,” Yibo’s voice is husky and Johnny mentally curses him, feeling a shiver run down his spine. “Took you long enough.” 

Johnny turns on his heels and finds Yibo grinning at him, stark fucking _naked_. 

“What the fuck,” Johnny breathes, closing his eyes momentarily so he can ground himself, “just what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing,” Yibo almost pouts, batting his lashes at him. 

Johnny closes his fingers around his wrist, pulling him close. “Fuck was up with that stunt at the quad? You trying to raise suspicions, now? Want people to figure out something’s up?” 

“I think you need to relax,” is the only thing Yibo says before he reaches for the back of Johnny’s neck to pull him down into a kiss. 

Johnny can’t breathe – Yibo’s kiss is suffocating in the best way, tongue sliding into his mouth with so much ease it makes his head spin. The way their bodies move in perfect sync makes Johnny think they have been doing this for ages now, when the reality is that they fucked once and that was the end of it. 

Until now, it seems. 

Yibo places a hand on his chest and starts pushing him towards the shower, freeing the other one from Johnny’s hold to place the towel on a hanger. They are still kissing, and Johnny can’t quite breathe, but Yibo’s hands are now on the hem of his shorts and pushing it down his legs, along with his underwear, and he thinks this is very much okay. 

Johnny couldn’t make something up like this even in his wildest weekend dreams – Yibo under the shower with him, liquid soap in his hands, looking more than ready to lather his body up. Johnny wonders if he, somehow, fell on the court and hit his head, and this is some sick and twisted coma dream his brain is coming up with. 

Yibo’s hands on his body feel more than real, though, so maybe this isn’t a dream at all. Where Johnny had been certain they had fucked once and nothing more, now he isn’t too sure. Yibo has his mouth on his neck, tongue running over his skin as he pushes Johnny under the warm spray of water, hands dangerously close to his dick. 

“Hey,” Johnny croaks out, hands falling on Yibo’s hips, fingers digging into his skin. “What—” 

Yibo drops to his knees, and if Johnny hadn’t lost his mind by then, he sure does now. He looks down, jaw hanging, and Yibo gives him the easiest, cockiest smile one could ever muster. 

“What the fuck,” he breathes just as Yibo wraps both hands around his dick. Johnny’s back hits the tiled wall and Johnny groans, fingers threading through Yibo’s wet hair. Yibo doesn’t break eye contact as he leans forward, as he places the tip of his cock against his lips and gives it a gentle kiss. 

He can feel his entire body shake, pleasure zipping down his spine as a tongue laps over the head, runs on the underside and circles around the base of his dick. Yibo’s touch is almost careful, featherlike as he teases Johnny, watching his every reaction. 

Johnny pulls him back by the hair and Yibo lets his jaw slack, tongue darting out when Johnny starts guiding him back towards his dick. Yibo is the one holding him steady, but Johnny is the one in control – for now. Yibo lets him do how he pleases, and Johnny feels his soul detach from his body when his lips close around the head and suckles. 

His toes curl into the tiles under his feet the deeper Yibo takes him, and the boy really only stops when the tip hits the back of his throat and he takes a deep breath. He strokes what his mouth can’t reach with flick of his wrists, and Johnny can’t look away from the way his lips stretches around the thickness of his dick. 

“Fuck,” Johnny curses as Yibo bobs his head, tongue dragging along the vein on the underside. “What— _why—_ ” 

He doesn’t want Yibo to stop, but at the same time he wants some answers. He closes his eyes tightly shut as his head hits the wall, the coiling in his stomach faint but present. He can’t grasp his thoughts around it – around the fact that Yibo is, in fact, on his knees and in front of him, sucking him off in the bathroom of their locker room. 

His hips twitch, sending his dick further down Yibo’s throat and Yibo gags, pulling off with tears in his eyes, saliva coating Johnny’s dick, his fingers and his chin. 

“Shit, sorry,” Johnny chokes out, running his fingers through his hair comfortingly. 

Yibo shakes his head, never ceasing the movements of his hands, chest heaving. “It’s fine. You want me to answer your question?” 

He spits on his dick, as if that is even needed. Johnny nods, unable to elaborate further than that. 

“Couldn’t get you out of my head,” he says with a wicked smile, placing another kiss to the tip of Johnny’s cock. Johnny can feel himself oozing precum already. “All weekend, after you left, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

He places a kiss to Johnny’s pelvis then lower, lower until he is nuzzling against his balls, picking up the pace of his hands. Johnny feels himself go weak at the knees, back sliding down the wet wall. 

“No matter how many times I masturbated,” Yibo blows against his sac, lightly running his tongue over the skin, “It still wasn’t enough.” 

“Is this enough, then?” Johnny manages to get out, his vision starting to spot white. He thinks it is kind of tragic how he isn’t going to last for long. 

“Can’t you see how hard I am?” 

Johnny dares look further past Yibo’s face and down his body, and the almost whines when he sees Yibo hot and heavy, cock twitching with every move of his tongue. Johnny feels it coming when Yibo drags his tongue over his perineum – the coiling in his stomach, the numbing of his fingers, the shaking of his limbs. 

Yibo rubs a thumb over his slit, kissing his way back up to the tip of his cock. Johnny doesn’t have time to say he will be coming soon as Yibo goes down on him again, so much further this time than the one before. The heat and the tightness of his mouth drives Johnny mad – it makes him want to grab Yibo by the hair and press him down until his nose brushes against his pelvis. 

He doesn’t, though, but mostly because there is no need. Yibo takes as much as he can in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, slacking his jaw, sucking him hard. It paints Johnny’s vision white, then black, and when Johnny manages to focus again, looking down at him – he chokes on a moan. 

Yibo is still holding eye contact, his lashes clumpy with both water and tears, his chin completely covered in spit. Johnny holds him tightly by the hair and only has time to pull him halfway off before he is coming, entire body shaking as he cums into Yibo’s mouth. 

Yibo doesn’t complain, takes everything he can with a half-smile on his lips, and Johnny—Johnny is mortified. 

He doesn’t even have the energy to apologize as Yibo pulls off entirely and swallows, his nose scrunching at the likely horrendous taste of his release. Johnny reaches a hand out and Yibo takes it in his, getting back on his feet. 

“You should consider eating more fruit,” Yibo says with a cheeky smile, pushing Johnny off the shower spray so he can wash his face. “You taste quite terrible. Have you been drinking gasoline?” 

Johnny laughs, not really feeling his legs. “Coffee.” 

“Close enough.” 

“Let me,” Johnny reaches out, a hand on Yibo’s hip, “do it for you too.” 

“I got it,” Yibo pushes his hand off with a smile. Johnny frowns, and Yibo quickly pecks his lips. “You’re meeting up with Sicheng, he’ll sense something’s off if you’re late.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” he answers along with a nod. “I’m sure he’s said something about earlier already.” 

Johnny doesn’t confirm nor denies it, and he figures that is answer enough. Yibo probably knows Sicheng as well as he does, and it isn’t hard to imagine Sicheng would inevitably question about what the fuck is up with the two of them. Yibo rushes him out of the shower and back to the lockers, and Johnny does little to protest. 

On his way back to his dorm, Johnny buys a fruit smoothie at the café. Sicheng gives him a look when he walks into the room from his spot on his bed, where he already has piles of books spread out, squinting at the drink in his hand. 

He looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. 

Johnny feels like he can breathe a little easier. 

When Kun first told the team he and Yukhei were part of a fraternity, no one took them seriously. 

Now, there are flyers glued on every campus surface, flat or not, about some massive party their frat are supposed to be throwing on Friday. Kun himself can be seen talking to people, getting confirmations. Johnny could have been more shocked if he hadn’t seen Kun at parties before. 

Johnny isn’t one to skip on free booze just like that. Saturday night seems quite promising – if anything, he can use the opportunity to get Yibo out of his fucking mind for a little while. Johnny has noticed Sicheng wants to ask, has noticed him trying to corner him every now and then, but Johnny always manages to escape. 

He doesn’t know if he is ready to acknowledge whatever the fuck might be going on between them. 

It helps that Sicheng seems to get busier and busier by the day, spending less time in their room, mostly staying at the library or at Jaehyun’s. The only reason why Johnny hasn’t really said anything about this whole Jaehyun affair is because he doesn’t want Sicheng to retaliate by poking his finger into what Johnny is starting to call the _Yibo Issue._

The difference between his and Sicheng’s outfits are stark, to say the least. Sicheng dresses himself in too tight, ripped jeans, a black tee and an equally black leather jacket, boots on his feet and liner smudged on his eyes. 

“For intimidation,” is what he says when Johnny raises a brow at him. “Gotta keep those hands off my man.” 

Johnny, on the other hand, goes for a comfortable pair of jeans, a very basic white tee and a denim overshirt, overly used Converse on his feet and barely styled hair. 

“For the bisexuals,” Johnny says when Sicheng asks about his double denim choice, doing finger guns at himself through the mirror. 

Johnny loses Sicheng five minutes after getting to the massive house, and he owes that to an already kind of drunk Jaehyun who comes at him from behind and immediately drags him away. It is barely eight and the house is already packed, drunk people hanging off every surface possible. 

He navigates his way to the kitchen with some difficulty, seeing a handful of familiar faces but none he is really close to. He finds Yukhei by the kitchen island, five cups lined in front of him as he pours something blue with one hand and vodka with the other, not really minding about the mess he is making. 

“Got a spare one?” Johnny asks as a greeting, smiling when Yukhei beams up at him. 

“Johnny!” he screams over the booming music, not putting the bottles down. “You came!” 

“I did,” he replies with a laugh, stealing a glance at the cups. “What’s in there?” 

Yukhei shrugs. “Whatever we had laying around. Here,” he puts the bottles down and pushes one of the cups to Johnny across the countertop. “Don’t blame me if you die.” 

The first sip doesn’t taste bad, objectively speaking, but Johnny can definitely feel the walls of his organs slowly melting off. Yukhei is watching him for his reaction, looking expectant, and Johnny can only give him a thumbs up for the radioactive drink. 

The goal is to get people drunk, after all. 

He stays by the kitchen for a while, chugging a few beers and doing a handful of tequila shots with whoever stops by for it. Sicheng stops by very briefly, looking for refills of whatever it is that Kun served them, and Kun gladly points him the way to a huge gallon of something red. 

Johnny is already feeling mildly boozed when he ventures into the living area, ready to dance his nerves a little. It is clear, then, that life is out to get him no matter where he is or what he is doing. 

He bumps, of course, straight into Yibo, who stumbles a couple steps back when he is caught off guard. Yibo, who is dressed in black, ripped jeans and a black and red printed shirt, the first button popped open. His hair is disheveled in a really nice way, like it was intentional, red eyeshadow smudged on his lids and the corners of his eyes and fuck—Johnny can’t stop staring. 

His face blooms into a smile the second he lifts his head up and sees Johnny looking back at him, and maybe it is the alcohol or maybe he is going into cardiac arrest – Johnny doesn’t know why his heart is beating so fast. He suddenly doesn’t know what he is doing out here, or why he still has any cognition over himself; all he knows is that he shouldn’t be rendered speechless when he isn’t even _that_ drunk. 

“Captain!” It is not Yibo’s voice and definitely not Yibo’s lips moving. He looks up to look for the person calling for him only to find Seungyoun glued to Yibo’s back, looking as if he is trying to push his friend forward but Yibo won’t budge. “Fancy seeing you here!” 

Johnny raises his hand in greeting, still unable to really say anything, what he hopes to be a smile plastered on his face. It’s not that things are awkward between them, not in the least – the thing is that, ever since the Monday Incident where Yibo sucked him off in the showers things have been—tense. 

Intense. 

He is sure everyone in the team can already feel it, can notice the way they act so differently towards each other, but no one says a thing. No one _wants_ to say a thing in case it throws them back into rivalry and just an overall really bad time for the entire team, so they let things settle as is. 

“Seungyoun,” Yibo calls over the music, briefly turning back to him so he can hear him better, “Can you go make us a drink?” 

Seungyoun nods. “Any preference?” 

“I trust your instincts,” Yibo answers with a wave of his hand, and Seungyoun is off to the kitchen not a second later. 

Yibo places a hand on Johnny’s shoulder without a greeting, his fingers digging into his skin as he pulls Johnny forward until their bodies collide. Yibo’s cologne is everything Johnny can smell, the smile on his lips all he can see. He doesn’t mind it one bit, especially when Yibo starts moving his body against his to the beat of the music booming through the speakers. 

Johnny closes his eyes, trying to focus and ground himself. It does the opposite of what he expects, though, and he only feels himself get drunker by the minute, even more so when Yibo is all over him, head falling on his shoulder as he lets himself get carried away. 

They are grinding together, uncaring of their surroundings, and Johnny doesn’t even care that he can already feel himself get hard through his rough jeans. He can feel Yibo hardening, too, and by the smell of alcohol in his breath Johnny can tell Yibo pre-gamed elsewhere before dropping by the party. It is good, he thinks, like this, so neither will have to think too hard about anything else. 

Seungyoun elbows Johnny on the back when he comes back with three cups in his hands, and Johnny tries not to complain about the sting because he feels really grateful for his teammate for doing this for them. They take a look inside the cup before drinking, and Johnny almost laughs at Yibo’s frown. 

“Why the fuck does this look like cum?” 

Seungyoun shrugs. “It was unintentional, but I promise it tastes good.” 

“What _is_ in here?” Johnny asks with a raise of his brow, trying to smell what could possibly be in the cup that is making it look so _cursed_. 

“Uh,” by the long pause Johnny can already tell he wasn’t paying that much attention when making the drinks. “Tequila, rum, vodka, boxed juice? And this pink, milky looking liquor… I can’t tell you exactly what it was, but I promise it does not taste bad like cum.” 

Where Johnny is hesitant as he places his cup to his lips Yibo just knocks the entire thing back, not even flinching. Johnny tries to keep his thoughts at bay – he shouldn’t focus so much on how he didn’t even gag when he chugged that thing. Johnny downs his own cup as fast as he can, in a hurry to catch up with the boy in front of him who is starting to slip away from his reach. 

Johnny finds, in his inebriated state, that Yibo seems to have a hidden talent. It happens when Yibo grabs him by the wrist and pulls him to a spot that is empty enough for them to move. Johnny thinks to himself that, if this was a High School Musical universe, _I Don’t Dance_ would probably be playing right now – the difference being that they are definitely not playing baseball. 

Point being—Yibo dances, and he dances _a lot._ Johnny can’t help but be mesmerized and incredibly turned on he is by the way Yibo’s body moves, like the beat is playing through his veins and his bones. He looks like he is in his true element, dancing without a care, and Johnny almost chokes when Yibo comes closer and starts dancing against him. 

Johnny knows the grinding comes with purpose by the mischief he can see in his eyes, by the ghost of a smile playing on the corners of his lips and the hands Yibo places on his hips. His fingers are strong when he dips them into his skin, thumbs harsh against his hipbones, making Johnny curl into himself. 

He hates that he can already feel his dick swelling in the confines of his fucking pants. 

Johnny leans in, lips right at Yibo’s ear, and says, “You never told me you dance.” 

He can hear Yibo laugh as he presses his own lips to Johnny’s ear, “You never asked.” 

Johnny doesn’t know why that makes him feel funny in a kind of unpleasant way. It’s not that he is wrong – Johnny never really thought to ask, but he also thought that there was never much room to talk to begin with. He still doesn’t know what this is – what they are. 

_They._

God, Johnny sure is losing his mind. 

This time, Johnny is the one to kiss Yibo first, to catch him off guard and steal his breath away. The music is loud but he can barely hear it, the only thing in his ears being the loud beating of his heart. He feels almost numb when they kiss, tongues gliding and noses brushing, his hands cupping Yibo’s face and pulling him impossibly close. 

He moans into Yibo’s mouth when Yibo pushes a thigh between his legs, rubbing him dry. Johnny pulls away, panting, resting his forehead against Yibo’s. His eyes are shut tightly, so tight he starts seeing stars – it is either that or because Yibo won’t cease his movements, getting him even harder. 

“Do you want to go somewhere more—private?” he hopes his voice is loud enough to be heard, his knees starting to shake. “I’m sure we can find a room.” 

Yibo nods. Johnny trips on his own feet when he peels Yibo off his body in favor of holding him by the hand to guide him through the house. There are people looking at them – Mark with Yukhei and Seungyoun by the kitchen, jaws kind of hanging open in shock, some of his classmates he wouldn’t be able to remember the name of, and Kun, who is standing by the staircase as he chats idly with someone else. 

Johnny hesitates the second they lock eyes. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say, Yibo running into his back when he stops walking so suddenly. Johnny can see Kun’s lips press into a thin line, a furrow between his brows. He sighs as he tells something to the guy standing beside him before walking over. 

“Kun—” 

“Up the stairs, last room on the left,” Kun cuts him off before Johnny can even say anything. He pushes something into Johnny’s hand. “Here’s the key. Don’t dirty my sheets, or else I won’t hesitate to tell Sicheng about this.” 

Yibo salutes him, saying between giggles, “Yes sir!” 

Going up the stairs is a terrible experience when you are drunk, and Johnny tries his very best not to let the floor slip under his feet. It would be terrible to send both of them down the staircase like that. Yibo is swaying on his feet as it is, stumbling into Johnny every now and then and giggling to himself whenever that happens. 

He isn’t much better, really, his knuckles going white as he grips onto the railing tightly. 

By the amount of bodies pressed against the hallway walls, Johnny safely assumes every room is locked from the outside by their respective owners – a smart idea when you don’t want massive destruction caused to your belongings. He stumbles a couple times, the walls and doors blending into one huge blur before his drunk eyes. 

“Hey, Captain,” Yibo loudly whispers, slapping his back lightly a couple times. “Be careful.” 

Johnny turns to look at him once he stops in front of Kun’s door. “Of _what?_ ” 

Yibo points down. “The floor—it’s _moving._ ” 

Johnny snorts a laugh, nearly dropping the key in his hand. “You’re drunk.” 

“Yeah,” Johnny can’t get over Yibo’s cheeks when he smiles, “and so are you.” 

They stumble into Kun’s room a moment later, Johnny almost forgetting to lock the door behind him as Yibo throws his arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. It is messy and desperate, teeth clashing in their urgency. Johnny starts pulling Yibo back until the backs of his knees hit Kun’s bed. 

They fall without grace, Yibo’s body on top of his. Johnny’s hands are urgent as they reach up to Yibo’s blouse and start undoing the buttons, Yibo’s own hands on the button of his jeans, undoing it and then the zipper, pulling his white tee out. 

Johnny only stops when he has his hands in Yibo’s pants, fingers dragging along the hem of his underwear. He is panting, head thrown back as Yibo licks along the column of his neck, biting gently on the skin. 

“Wait,” he breathes, digging his fingers into the flesh of Yibo’s ass before pulling his hands out entirely. “Yibo, hold on.” 

The room is so dark Johnny can’t see Yibo’s face when he pulls back and sits on his thighs, moonlight doing very little to illuminate the room. There is a lamp sitting on Kun’s bedside table, but Johnny doesn’t dare reach for it just yet. 

“Is something wrong?” Yibo asks, and Johnny can almost hear a pout in his voice. “Do you not want this?” 

“No, that’s not—” Johnny reaches out for him, locking his hands around his wrists to pull him down against his chest. “I want it so bad, but—we’re both drunk.” 

“I want this,” He places a kiss under Johnny’s jaw, then on the corner of his lips. “I really do.” 

“And I believe you, but—” Johnny chokes back a moan when Yibo presses his thigh between his legs again, rubbing him raw, “—we’re drunk. I don’t want your consent like that.” 

Yibo doesn’t give up. “We’ve done this sober,” he traces the hem of Johnny’s underwear lightly, “Why wouldn’t I want you now?” 

Johnny’s heart does a really funny thing where it stops beating for a couple seconds, and he doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know if Yibo is saying this because of the alcohol or if he is just starting to hear things, but his guts twist in a way it never has before. 

Johnny chooses to blame it on the alcohol. There is no way he really meant that. 

“We can still have fun,” Johnny reassures him, offering a smile even though he knows Yibo can’t see it. “We can fuck when we’re sober.” 

He doesn’t know if there will be a next time after this or if Yibo will still be up for it once he sobers up, but he still takes the risk and throws the offer out there. He doesn’t really have much to lose, anyway. 

Silence stretches for a bit too long, and when Johnny starts thinking he’s ruined it for good, Yibo says, “Okay.” 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Can I hit the lights?” It doesn’t hurt to ask, Johnny thinks. “So I can see you.” 

Yibo giggles. “Please.” 

Johnny searches for the lamp switch, and within seconds the room is bathed in a soft, orange glow. Yibo, on top of him, looks like a beautiful fucking mess. Yibo, who is looking at him with half-lidded eyes and a half smile on his lips. 

Yibo, who is trying to slip his hand down his pants. 

“Let’s just get this out of the way,” Johnny murmurs, pushing Yibo to the side for as long as it takes him to step out of his shoes and then his pants. He can see Yibo struggle with his own garments for a while, but he ultimately manages to pull them off without help. Johnny sits with his back facing the headboard, legs spread. “Come.” 

Yibo kneels over, sitting back on his haunches once he is between Johnny’s legs like he is unsure of what to do. Johnny chuckles lightly at how cute and fucking sexy he looks at the same time, slipping his hands between his calves and thighs to grip his legs tightly and pull them out. Yibo squeaks when Johnny pulls him closer, throwing his legs over his thighs. 

Johnny then cups his cheek with a hand, the other resting against his hip as he kisses Yibo once again. It is all teeth and tongue, almost feral with the urgency they kiss. Johnny can feel his skin burning up, feeling warm around the collar of his shirt and especially his groin. He can feel his dick pulse when Yibo clenches his muscle thighs as he moans into the kiss, fingers reaching for the hem of Johnny’s shirt. 

Johnny trails kisses from Yibo’s lips to his cheek then his jaw, and down the column of his neck. He slips the hand he has on Yibo’s face down his neck, too, pushing the fabric of his shit off his shoulder just enough to expose his skin. Johnny takes a moment to appreciate him like this, with his head thrown back, lips red and swollen from kissing, covered in spit, his shoulder exposed in the most sensual manner one could ever be. 

He thinks he is going to get a nosebleed. 

Johnny kisses the crook of his neck, running his tongue over the skin before giving it a soft bite. Yibo moans just as softly, resting back on one of his hands to give Johnny more access. Johnny kisses his shoulder blade, kisses every bit of skin he can before he kisses his shoulder. When he does, he feels Yibo shiver under him, moan as he licks him, pressing wet kisses into his body. 

“Touch me,” Yibo moans, almost pleading, and who is Johnny to deny him anything, really. 

He proceeds to undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt, not quite pushing it down his arms but still getting it out of the way. Johnny marvels at the expanse of soft skin, so absolutely enthralled by the soft curve of Yibo's jaw, the way his Adam's apple moves as he swallows, and then looks down at Johnny, who trails his fingers tips over collarbone, over the faint dusting of hair leading to where Yibo's cock curves beautifully up toward his abdomen. 

Johnny swallows the sigh that escapes Yibo's lips when he finally wraps his hand around Yibo's cock, his other hand on Yibo's waist, his thumb stroking the skin there. 

"Been thinking about this," Yibo says softly, sounding drunk on alcohol, or want, Johnny isn't sure. He knows they can't exactly trust everything that comes out of each other's mouths right now, but he closes his eyes, wants to believe that Yibo means it. Why he wants to believe it is another thing entirely, and not quite something he has the capacity to comprehend at the moment. 

Yibo pulls away, and Johnny immediately misses his warmth—that is, until Yibo has his hand on Johnny's own hardness, and Johnny nearly blanks out. It hasn't even been that long since they last touched each other. Not even a week. But Johnny feels like his entire body is on fire, doused from head to toe, especially when Yibo licks up his palm and places his hand back to stroke Johnny's length. 

Johnny feels like a meteor about to burn up and they have only just begun, and while he enjoys this vantage point of having Yibo draped on top of him, Johnny wants him to relax, wants this to be less about his own pleasure and more about Yibo's, which should be a terrifying thought in and of itself. Johnny's not a selfish lover, not by far, but right now, Johnny wants nothing more than to have Yibo attention solely on him, wants to be the single point, the fulcrum on which Yibo hinges his ecstasy on. 

He moves both his hands to Yibo's hips, the hipbones jutting out. 

"Why'd you stop?" Yibo asks, his eyes hooded, glazed over. 

"I want you under me," Johnny replies, voice rough and low, making Yibo smile before he is slowly pushed down onto the mattress beneath him. Johnny climbs over him smoothly, and very easily, he now rests his ass on Yibo's thighs. 

They are both so hard it is almost painful to see, and it takes all of Johnny's willpower to not rut into Yibo's thigh like a fucking teenager. He takes Yibo's cock in his hand, the precum slicking his way down the length as Yibo arches into his touch. God, it is maddening how responsive Yibo is to his touch, and Johnny thinks he could get drunk on this every night if Yibo would let him. 

When Johnny leans in for a kiss, Yibo brings his tongue out to lick over Johnny's lips in the filthiest display, slow, agonizing, like Johnny is his prey, and it makes something inside of Johnny ache and awaken. His hips stutter when Yibo starts stroking him in earnest, the wet sound of Johnny's skin as Yibo's hand grips hip tight to increase the friction. 

He has traded handjobs before. This isn't new to him at all. But this is something else-- charged in a way that tells Johnny that the next time he had hoped for would come, that this wasn't going to keep being a one-off thing. He cannot even begin to fathom the inexcusable wanton longing that he feels when Yibo sinks his teeth into Johnny's bicep as Johnny props himself up on his elbow. 

Johnny tries to hold in his noise, worried that Kun will come storming up to the room and demand for his key back. He lets out a silent scream when he feels Yibo's thumb brush over the slit of his cock over and over like he is taunting him. Johnny feels like he is shaking apart. 

"Johnny," Yibo says, looking up at him. "Does this feel good?" 

Johnny can't even believe he is being asked this right now, but he nods, not trusting himself to say anything that isn't a swear word or a garbled moan. 

"So let me hear you," Yibo says. "I want to hear you." 

There's nothing to hold back the "Fuck, Yibo," that comes out of Johnny's mouth then, because Yibo twists his wrist and this thumbs catches on the underside of Johnny's cock before he starts to stroke lower near Johnny's perineum, and Johnny has no idea how Yibo knows that that's where he is most sensitive, but he is there. 

"Fuck, b–Yibo," Johnny says, catching himself at the last second. "If you keep this up, I'm gonna explode right now, I swear to fucking God." 

Yibo says nothing, just leans up and licks over the pulse point on Johnny's neck. Johnny starts to match his pace, and all that's left is the heat between their bodies, the heat of their breaths. Johnny is so close, he can feel his balls tighten, the fire deep in his belly telling him that he is seconds from release. 

"Johnny," Yibo moans, lips parted. "Johnny, spit in my mouth." 

Johnny is going to pass out. He is going to fucking pass out. They are still moving, legs entangled, hands furiously stroking each other, the slap of their skin making the cacophony of noise, a backdrop to their heavy breathing. 

Yibo opens his mouth, his tongue out, and Johnny swears under his breath before letting the saliva pool in his own mouth, before letting it dribble down. Yibo catches it with his tongue and he moans filth like a man caught in draught. 

This is the single hottest thing Johnny has ever witnessed in his short life, and that is what sends him over, sends him hurtling towards the edge and over the precipice as his release spurts out from his cock, long white stripes coating Yibo's hand, the sound wet and disgusting and embarrassingly erotic. 

Yibo comes almost immediately, chasing his own orgasm as Johnny leans in to bite into Yibo's skin, over his neck, over his shoulder. Johnny thinks he has never heard his own name sound as sweet as it does when being wrung out of Yibo’s mouth. 

Johnny thinks that there is nothing else that can undo him at this point, until Yibo strokes his cock again – once, the oversensitive head making Johnny's hips twitch momentarily—and brings his hand to his mouth, and licking Johnny's cum off of one finger, then two, then three. 

"Oh my god," Johnny groans, taking Yibo by the wrist. 

"I see you've been taking my advice," Yibo says, before laughing soft and low. "Fuck, Cap, you taste so good." 

Shock almost freezes Johnny down to the bone, and it takes him a while until he recovers from all of it. He knows he must be crushing Yibo with his weight, but not once does Yibo open his mouth to complain, instead rubbing circles on his back with his clean hand. They are still breathing heavily, the world swimming behind his closed lids, and he truly hopes the room doesn’t reek to the point Kun is going to murder them later on. 

“We should get going,” Johnny murmurs, head buried in the crook of Yibo’s neck. He doesn’t make a single move to leave. 

He doesn’t really want to leave. 

“I think it’s okay if we stay,” Yibo whispers softly, running the hand through Johnny’s hair. 

So they do. 

Johnny doesn’t know what to do with himself, with the feelings in his chest or the mess of thoughts in his head. he doesn’t know how to acknowledge any of it; he can’t remember the last time he felt this conflicted over something or someone. 

For starters, he thinks he likes Yibo. 

With the way his heart palpitates whenever he sees Yibo during practice or strolling around campus, Johnny is fairly sure he likes him. The problem is that he has an act to put up, one that gets harder by the day to maintain, but that he isn’t sure he is ready to let go of. Yibo hasn’t made mention that he wants others to know what is going on between then, and Johnny isn’t going to push him if that’s not what he wants. 

Sicheng grows more suspicious over time. Johnny catches him staring across the room when he lifts his eyes off his books or lingering around when Johnny comes off the shower, only to turn his back to him and do something else entirely. All those times, Johnny can see he wants to say something, and every single time he chooses not to. 

He wonders if Sicheng has talked about it with Yibo. 

He wonders if Yibo has said anything about him at all, if Sicheng is waiting to see if Johnny will tell him about it himself without being asked. Johnny wonders if Yibo also feels his heart race at times, if he stays up at night wondering what the fuck is going on and what they are supposed to do. 

Johnny doesn’t have answers for those questions, but he really wishes he did. He wishes someone would grab him by the shoulders and just tell him what he is supposed to do with everything he has been repressing for weeks now. 

He wishes it didn’t have to be so complicated. 

Johnny is on his way out from his lecture building when someone crashes into his back, yelling a “Hey, Captain!” at him and making him stumble a couple steps forward and almost drop his laptop and phone on the floor. 

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” comes the voice from behind him, hands carefully gripping him by the shoulders. 

By now, he knows who the owner of that voice is without even looking. 

He slowly turns around, hugging his laptop close to his chest in case tragedy decides to strike him – he really can’t afford a new one at the moment. Yibo is giving him an apologetic smile, taking a step back to put some distance between them. 

“If you want me dead you just have to tell me,” Johnny says jokingly, his heart beating loudly in his ears. 

Yibo laughs, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Johnny feels wary. There are too many people around them, too many eyes watching them, and Yibo is starting to smile so brightly it is kind of blinding. His hands are starting to sweat, his knees going kind of weak, and he is about to open his mouth to say something when Yibo shifts on his feet and says, “Do you wanna go get some coffee?” 

Johnny hears the record scratch and it is so, so fucking loud. 

He is also sure the world has stopped spinning. He doesn’t know how many times this has happened since the day they met. Johnny is shocked speechless for a few seconds. 

“Huh?” is what he says after a while, not quite registering the words he heard coming from Yibo’s mouth. He must have heard them wrong. “What did you just say?” 

Yibo’s smile broadens. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?” he says every word slowly, mouthing every syllable carefully, patiently. 

Johnny must be dreaming. He likely fell asleep during class and this is him dreaming right now. He must be drooling into his laptop, and he can only hope no one is staring at him. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He has never been rendered speechless like this before, and all he can manage to do is stare at Yibo, stunned, jaw hanging open. 

This can’t possibly be real. 

He watches the expression on Yibo’s face change. It is subtle and nearly unnoticeable, and Johnny only really sees it because he can’t stop _staring_ at him. The smile on his lips doesn’t falter, but Yibo shifts his weight on his feet again as he says, “If you’re gonna say no, then just do it and don’t leave me hanging.” 

Johnny doesn’t want to say no. 

It is just that—there are so many people around them, _staring_ at them. They can hear what they’re saying, and—Yibo doesn’t seem to care? Johnny’s brain is starting to smell like fumes. There is only so much he can compute at once. Johnny can feel himself starting to shake. He didn’t think Yibo cared enough about him beyond egging him on and fucking – he can’t grasp his thoughts around it. 

“You know what?” Yibo presses his lips into a thin line. “Forget it.” 

He brushes past Johnny and starts to walk away. Panicked, Johnny turns on his heels and reaches for him, grabbing him by the wrist and stopping his on his tracks. Johnny can barely hear his thoughts, can’t hear his own voice when he speaks, and he thinks – hopes he says, “I’d really love to get coffee with you.” 

Yibo turns around, slowly, searching Johnny’s face for certainty. Johnny can see pink dusting his cheeks, going up to tint the tips of his ears as well. Johnny can’t quite read his face, and he doesn’t know if Yibo can read his either, but he hopes Yibo can see he is being genuine with his words. 

“Do you have a place in mind?” Johnny asks, offering him a smile. 

The corners of his lips start pulling up as he nods. “I know a place that is probably five minutes away from campus if you’re up for the walk.” 

“Let’s go, then.” 

The weather is the right amount of sunny and breezy, so much so that it isn’t unbearable when they walk outside. Johnny can’t help but notice how close Yibo is walking to him, shoulders occasionally brushing as they sway on their feet. 

Johnny feels strangely at peace. His heart might still be racing, and his thoughts might be as loud as before, but he finally feels at ease. To know that Yibo didn’t care if people saw or heard them – it really eased his own nerves about this whole thing between them. 

He doesn’t know if this is a date – he hasn’t _asked_ if this is a date, but he hopes it is. 

The coffee shop Yibo takes him to is a very small, but very lovely one. The place is decorated in white and teal, ceiling-high windows allowing sunlight to bathe the place in a nice glow. The girl behind the counter greets Yibo enthusiastically by the name when they walk in, and Johnny wonders just how many times he has come here – by himself or with others. 

“What can I get for you today?” the girl cheerfully asks, eyes bright as she looks up at Yibo. 

“Uh,” Yibo takes a moment scanning the board above her head, “I think today I’ll go with the Gui Fei.” 

The girl nods, writing his order down on the computer. She looks back up at him, only sparing Johnny a glance. “And for your friend?” 

Yibo turns to look at him and Johnny suddenly flushes. 

“Oh, uhm,” he quickly glances over the board, “I’ll have the berries smoothie?” 

Yibo snorts a laugh but doesn’t say anything, turning back to look at the girl. 

“So, we’ll have one Gui Fei and one Berry Punch. Anything to eat?” 

Johnny looks at Yibo. “Do you want something?” 

“We’ll have one lemon pie slice.” 

The girl looks up from the computer, eyes flitting between them. “Just one?” 

“Yes,” Yibo says with a smile. “We’ll share.” 

The girls flushes when she looks back down, fingers tapping the screen so hard the noise is rather loud. Yibo pays for their order before Johnny can even think of reaching for his wallet, and Johnny makes a mental note of treating him sometime later if they ever do this again. 

As she goes to make them their drinks, Johnny doesn’t know why he feels kind of funny about the situation. The problem isn’t so much the way she pretty much ignored his presence until Yibo turned to look at him so he could speak, but the way she was clearly trying to flirt with Yibo without being direct about it. 

It shouldn’t bother him – they are not a thing. 

It does bother him, though, but he keeps quiet about it, especially when Yibo didn’t seem to pay her any mind. 

Yibo bumps into his arm with his shoulder, making Johnny look down at him. Yibo has a teasing smile on his lips, arms crossed over his chest as they wait. 

“You’re not getting coffee?” he asks, the tease in his smile translating into his voice – he is clearly trying not to laugh. 

“Uh,” Johnny says, sheepish. “Trying to cut back, remember?” 

Yibo nods. “Really glad you’re following my advice, Cap.” 

“For the love of God,” Johnny shudders, looking back ahead, feeling his face heat up. “Can you please not call me that in public?” 

“Why?” Yibo laughs lightly, like he doesn’t know any better. “Does it make you feel something inappropriate for the general audience?” 

Johnny doesn’t get the chance to reply before the girl is calling for them with their order. He gets the tray and Yibo thanks her once again, leading them to the farthest corner of the shop, taking a seat right by the window. 

When they sit, Johnny finally has the chance to properly look at Yibo. His hair, slightly wavy and parted in the middle, frames his face so nicely Johnny can feel his heart beat in his throat. He can see the glint of silver from his piercings reflecting light. Dressed in a pink sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Yibo funnily enough matches his dressing color of choice for the day. 

“Can I ask you something?” Johnny asks, stirring his smoothie. Yibo nods. “Why’d you ask me out?” 

Yibo puts his tea down, staring at the table for a while. He licks his lips before he looks up at Johnny. 

“Because I can’t read you,” Yibo says with a sigh, “And I want to be able to.” 

Johnny’s heart starts beating just a little bit faster. He takes a sip of his smoothie, the sweetness almost unbearable. 

“Is this a date?” 

“Do you want it to be?” 

Johnny almost drops his drink. He doesn’t understand how Yibo can be so straightforward with everything, how he can act so casual about something that is eating Johnny inside out. He looks so collected and sure of himself, meanwhile Johnny is sitting across the table with jittery legs and sweaty palms, feeling hot around the collar. 

“Yes,” he answers, putting his drink down as well, just so he won’t drop it and make a mess of everything. “I’d really like it if this was a date.” 

Yibo’s smile is soft, and it tugs at Johnny’s heartstrings. He doesn’t know when things changed; before season happened, they couldn’t stand being in the same room as one another. He doesn’t even understand how they started fucking to begin with, let alone gotten to the point where they are out on a _date_. 

Johnny doesn’t know when his feelings changed. He doesn’t know when he started feeling things for Yibo at all – it is like he woke up one day and the world as he once knew had changed completely. 

It isn’t an unpleasant or unwelcome feeling. Johnny finds he quite likes staring at Yibo when he starts talking about videogames, and Johnny finds himself just as lost in thought as he is when Sicheng starts rambling like this. He knows just the right questions to ask to keep Yibo talking, laughs when he laughs – Johnny can see why he is friends with Sicheng. 

Johnny learns, then, that Yibo met Sicheng through a Discord server for Halo, and he tries not to choke on his drink when he starts laughing at it. Yibo explains that it was the door for them to start talking, and once they found out they studied at the same place, things just progressed naturally. 

Johnny tells Yibo about the first time he had met Sicheng, when he had found out they were rooming together and how terrified he had been of the other boy until Sicheng had started to warm to him. 

"It was a little bit like when I first met you, I suppose," Johnny says, bringing his hand to the back of his neck sheepishly. "I usually find that the people who rub me the wrong way at first glance have a funny way of--" 

"Of rubbing you the right way, Cap?" Yibo teases, his eyebrow raised, the small smile on his lips making Johnny's insides squirm in a way he is unused to. 

"Shut up," Johnny says, laughing under his breath. 

Johnny asks about his ambitions for the future, and to his surprise, Yibo tells him he plans on working in the technology field. 

“Wait,” Johnny puts his fork down, swallowing the pie he has in his mouth. “The hell are you majoring in?” 

“What do you peg me for?” Yibo challenges, the right corner of his mouth pulling up. 

“Honestly?” Johnny cocks his head to the side, thinking for a while. “I have no fucking idea.” 

“I’m studying to be a programmer.” 

Johnny, very dramatically, chokes on his drink. It goes down the wrong pipe and makes him tear up – Johnny spends minutes coughing before he recovers, Yibo looking at him rather amused. 

“You’re joking, right?” he takes another sip of his smoothie to soothe his now sore throat. 

Yibo plays with the fork in his hand. “What makes you say that? 

“ _How_ do you find the time for... everything else that you do?” It doesn’t make sense. He isn’t calling Yibo dumb, or that he is lacking with his major—he is sure that is not the case. He just can’t understand how he does the things he does when his major demands so much time and energy. “Like, you even have time for basketball and to go to _parties?_ ” 

“I also skate in my free time,” Yibo adds with a smile, “and practice motorbike racing. And gaming, of course - I also like to do some other things?” 

Johnny scoffs, not unkind. “How the fuck?” 

Yibo shrugs. “I don’t know, I think I haven’t slept in, like, four days?” 

Yibo strings along conversation so easily Johnny feels like they have been good friends for years instead of the not-so-good encounters they’ve had months prior to this. Yibo asks about his favorite tv shows, his favorite bands and pizza flavor; Johnny feels his heart soar when Yibo tells him he, too, likes pineapple on pizza. 

Johnny tells him a story about the time they were having movies night in their dorm room, and Sicheng insisted on watching a horror movie despite being terrified of them. Yibo laughs until he is almost crying when Johnny tells him Sicheng refused to sleep in his own bed or have the lights off for a good week after that, afraid to even shower on his own. 

Yibo's smile is beautiful, and his laugh sounds like the angels probably do when they are singing. 

Or some corny shit like that. 

Johnny can feel warmth spread through his body every time Yibo laughs. It is the gradual realization that this is so much more than just sexual tension—that they are much more than just sexually compatible. 

It is the realization that Johnny is hooked on being the reason Yibo laughs, and that he wants to do that more often. 

"You have a really nice laugh, has anyone ever said?" 

Yibo's smile goes from really wide to really shy, caught off guard by Johnny’s sudden comment. 

"No, no one's ever said that to me," Yibo says, his hand coming up to his mouth like he is too embarrassed to be seen smiling so wide. The hand doesn't cover the faint redness on Yibo's cheeks or the tips of his ears. 

Johnny cannot remember the last time he had ever felt this at ease on a date. All his previous experiences had involved some uncomfortable silences, and this internal pressure to be someone that was pleasing enough to keep the other person interested. 

The fact that they have fucked notwithstanding, Johnny figures that part of why this date feels so easy is because he doesn't feel the need to put his best foot forward to prevent Yibo from seeing the ugly parts of him— he has already done that, and so has Yibo. 

It hits him like a truck to the solar plexus then, this realization that he does, in fact, like Yibo. Likes him enough to want to keep meeting him for not-coffee every day. Likes him enough that suddenly all Johnny wants is to pick him apart, get to read Yibo the way Yibo wants to read him. 

But a wave of insecurity washes over him, makes him second-guess himself. 

"When you said you wanted to read me, is that all?" Johnny asks, his voice small. 

A small crease forms between Yibo's eyebrows. 

"What do you mean?" 

Johnny can't bring himself to cobble together a coherent sentence, but maybe Yibo has underestimated just how much of Johnny he actually can read, because very gently, he leans forward, bridges the small expanse of space between them over their used plate, and their empty glasses, to nudge Johnny by the chin. 

"I like you, Cap, in case that much hasn't been obvious," Yibo says, plain as day. There it is again, Yibo's boldness, his ability to cut behind the bullshit and get to the heart of it. "It's fine if you don't feel the same way, or feel the same way yet. I'm in no hurry." 

That leaves Johnny feeling off-kilter, even more than the last couple of days. 

“I— well,” Johnny swallows around the lump in his throat. “I’m trying to figure it out, but I like this. I like being with you.” 

It’s almost ridiculous how easily he says that, like he and Yibo didn’t almost rip each other’s throats out at practice all those months ago, like he hadn’t nearly been suspended from the team for how much he didn’t want to be around Yibo. 

The smile that Yibo throws Johnny’s way makes his legs feel like jelly. 

“Why did we act like such dicks?” Johnny laughs, hiding his face behind his hand like he is face-palming himself. 

“I knew right away that you didn’t like me,” Yibo says, leaning back in his seat, his knees splayed out like this is a casual conversation and not the revelation of latent sexual tension and feelings for one another. 

“And I guess I resented that,” Yibo continues. “That you’d made that judgement call and you decided that you didn’t like my attitude when you didn’t even know me. It just made it easier for me to deal.” 

Johnny feels chastised, a little bit rubbed raw, but he deserves this, he knows. 

“I’m sorry,” Johnny says sincerely, looking Yibo in the eye, hoping that his body language transmits just how sorry he actually is for having been the biggest fucking douchebag towards the other man when he did, in fact, not know him at all. “It was unfair on my part, and I should’ve reined it back in.” 

Yibo scoffs but it isn’t unkind. 

“Cap, do you think I’d have put your cock down my throat if I was still angry at you about that?” Yibo asks, and his voice is teasing, like he knows the effect it’ll have on Johnny, and he is right, because Johnny’s face heats up and he glances around to see if anyone heard them. Jesus Christ, the mouth Yibo has on him. 

Johnny tries not to actively think about Yibo’s mouth – what he can and has done with his mouth; he doesn’t think he needs to pop a fucking boner in a coffee shop filled with other students and a mom with her kid two tables over. Yibo laughs and his heart beats just a little bit faster, his cheeks burning just a little bit hotter. 

“You’re too blunt sometimes, did you know that?” Johnny drinks the last of his drink, trying not to feel too upset that this little date of theirs is likely coming to an end. 

Yibo plays with his empty cup, nodding with a smile on his lips. 

“So I’ve been told.” 

Things are silent for the first time between them since they sat at their table, and Johnny basks in it. It isn’t uncomfortable or awkward, a natural progression of things between two people who have been chatting all afternoon. Outside, the sun is starting to set, the sky blending into beautiful hues of purple and orange. 

Johnny watches as Yibo checks his phone and heaves a sigh. He frowns a little. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yes,” Yibo pockets his phone again, and there is a pout playing on his lips that Johnny really, really wants to kiss. “It’s just that… I should get going, it’s getting late.” 

Johnny can feel his heartstrings being tugged for a split second. 

“I’ll walk you back.” 

The walk to Yibo’s apartment is a silent one, but Johnny doesn’t feel bothered by it. Yibo is leaning into him, arms brushing, and Johnny has to focus not to trip and fall every time the other presses closer to him. 

Johnny doesn’t know what he is feeling – everything is still too fresh and new, too much for his brain to handle at once. The realization that he likes Yibo, the knowledge that Yibo likes him back, is too much and not enough. His heart is racing in his ribcage, his skin buzzing and his thoughts a mess, but just like it was when they were walking to the café— 

Johnny feels at ease. 

Only that now it feels so, so much better. He doesn’t have to feel like he is stepping on eggshells or trying to cross a battleground, to be afraid to be seen or be heard. Johnny feels like he can finally be himself, and he doesn’t want to let go of that feeling. 

They are in front of Yibo’s building, pace slowing down as they get closer to the entrance, and Johnny starts wondering— _what now._

Yibo looks up at him, smile on his lips and stars in his eyes, and Johnny doesn’t hold back from cupping his cheek and pulling him into a kiss. Yibo meets him halfway, and Johnny can’t help but smile against his lips. 

The way they kiss is almost chaste at first, soft unlike any other kiss they have shared before, unhurried. It is almost as if they are kissing for the first time. It should strike Johnny as novel that they are stood outside Yibo’s building and he is here kissing someone who he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with when they had first met. 

But instead, Johnny feels like he is at peace, like he is giddy with emotion, drunk with want, especially when Yibo sighs into his kiss and the fingers Johnny has splayed over his hip before pulling away. 

Golden hour has always been special to Johnny because the way the sun bathes their campus in gold when it is bidding its goodbye for the day has always been striking to him. 

He doesn’t expect to be left breathless at the soft look that Yibo sends his way when he says, “Hey, down boy, I’ve gotta code tonight.” 

Yibo presses one last shy kiss on Johnny’s lips. 

“Can’t have you distracting me,” Yibo adds, his eyebrow raised. 

“Okay,” Johnny breathes out, taking a step back to ground himself. “Okay, I’ll—catch you later?” 

Yibo smiles, answering with a nod, and Johnny feels like he has won the lottery. He stands there until Yibo is walking into his building, wishing the moment would last just a bit longer, that the day wouldn’t end just yet. But Yibo is halfway through the door and Johnny accepts that this is it – for now. 

He turns on his heels and is already making his way towards his own dorm building when he hears running footsteps behind him. There is a hand on his shoulder, grip strong, and Johnny is ready to elbow whoever it may be when he is spun around like it is nothing, startling the shit out of him. 

Johnny barely has half a second to register Yibo’s face before their lips crash, almost painful. 

“Text me, okay?” Yibo breathes when he pulls out, the brightest smile on his lips before he runs back inside his building, not looking back even once. 

Johnny feels like he is walking on air. 

Johnny knew people would notice something is different between them, but he didn’t know what to expect from it. It’s not that they are being that obvious to begin with, it is just that—Yibo is talking to him during practice, and the hostile energy that had once been between them is nowhere to be seen. 

He notices it one day after practice when Yibo is animatedly chatting with him about a movie he had seen the night before. He sees Seungyoun pull Jaehyun to the side and whisper something to him, his eyes never leaving the two of them. The speed at which Jaehyun’s eyes flit to them makes things pretty obvious, and Johnny watches as Jaehyun shrugs before walking out of the court. 

Yibo, on the other hand, doesn’t see any of it – doesn’t see his best friend looking pointedly at them before walking out as well. Johnny pulls a clean shirt over his head, relieved to be clean from a fresh shower just as Yibo pulls his own pants up. 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Yibo keeps talking, like he is never going to run out of air, “How about we go to the movies today? If you’re not busy, that is.” 

Johnny would have never anticipated just how talkative Yibo can be. He feels grateful for it, for the moments he can’t figure his own thoughts out. 

“Sounds great,” Johnny says with a smile, slipping his shoes on. “Not busy at all.” 

The advantage of going to the movies in the middle of the day is that, for the most part, people are too busy to frequent the place at that time. Johnny lets Yibo pick the movie, since it was his idea to come, and pays for both their tickets and their popcorn. 

Johnny likes the turn things have taken after their first date. His cheeks still heat up every time he thinks about it, and his heart still races, because he can’t quite believe Yibo actually _feels things_ for him, but things are different now. 

Things no longer feel like they are happening to build up some sexual tension that is bound to explode on their faces at any given time. It is almost as if time slows down and waits for them – waits for them to get to know each other, to figure things out, for them to work it through. 

They are not in a hurry. 

Truthfully, Johnny feels like they have the entire time in the world. 

Before they walk into the screening room, Yibo firmly tells him he does not want to mess around during the movie with the most solemn expression Johnny has ever seen on him. Johnny nods, because he understands – he doesn’t want to pay actual money to do something they could be doing elsewhere and for free. 

Things go just like that – uneventful for the most part, but it still leaves Johnny feeling like a goddamn teenager who is just finding out about love. Although they don’t kiss or mess around, Yibo spends the entire movie with his hand in Johnny’s, fingers laced and thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of his hand, his head resting on Johnny’s shoulder. 

Johnny feels stupid, like he is madly in love. 

He doesn’t even _know_ if this is love, but whatever it is, he will take every bit of it. 

Yibo takes him back to his place, and Johnny can’t help but note just how much has changed since the first time he had been here until now. 

Everything is still the same, but they certainly are not. 

Right now, it feels sort of like déjà vu, with Yibo pressed against his front door as Johnny kisses him breathless. Yibo rubs his hands over his shoulders, pushing Johnny’s jacket off and onto the floor, runs them down his torso and to the hem of his jeans, fingers twiddling with the metal button. 

Johnny can’t even begin to explain how much he has thought about this – about the time they would get to fuck again. But things have changed – just like the way he presses Yibo against the door right now is different, a lot gentler, the way he kisses Yibo right now is different than the first time they did, too, and he prays to whatever higher being is out there that Yibo can notice that too. 

Yibo is flashing down his zipper when Johnny breaks the kiss and holds him by the wrists, stopping his movements. 

“Hey,” he breathes out, his voice hoarse. “Slow down, cowboy.” 

Johnny can see panic flash in Yibo’s eyes, a loud thud resonating through the small room as he takes a step back and crashes right into the door, nowhere else to go. 

Johnny’s eyes are as gentle as the smile on his lips. He brings Yibo’s wrists up, kisses the knuckles of his fingers, the palms of his shaky hands, 

_Let’s take it_ _slow._

He kisses up his wrist, 

_I’m not in a hurry._

Under his jaw, over his earlobe, 

_It’s okay._

Nuzzling his cheek, 

_We’ve got time._

A peck on his lips, tender, 

_I want you._

He feels like he is watching Yibo falling apart, coming undone at the seams as he relaxes against the door, his knees going weak. If Johnny listens closely enough, he is sure he can hear Yibo’s heart beating loudly in his chest – or maybe it is his own, threatening to break his bones in an attempt to set itself free. 

Johnny starts pulling Yibo towards his bed, never breaking eye contact, and no matter how much Yibo tries to, he can’t hide the shade of pink his cheeks have been tinted with. Johnny can’t wipe the smile off his face, can’t find it in him to when he feels this much of a fool. 

He pushes Yibo down his bed, slowly, gently, climbing on top of him to kiss him senseless again. 

“Johnny,” this is the first time Johnny hears Yibo call his name so softly, like he is scared Johnny will be gone the second he opens his eyes. “Johnny, I—" 

“I like you,” Johnny says instead, and he watches as Yibo’s eyes flutter open, glistening. Johnny smiles at him again, bring a hand up to caress his cheek. “Will you let me show you just how much I like you?” 

Yibo’s answer is a small nod, and it is all Johnny needs. He strips Yibo of his clothes with patience and care, kissing every bit of exposed skin like he was born to do just that – to worship Yibo and everything that he is. 

Yibo’s breathing is shallow beneath him, chest quickly rising and falling as Johnny kisses down his chest, over his stomach, fingers curling into his pants to pull them off. It’s not like they haven’t done this before, but things have never been this gentle. 

Where they were charged with lust, Johnny replaces it with tenderness, with featherlike touches over warm skin. 

Yibo feels like he is burning up under his touch, like he is about to melt if Johnny so much as lays an extra finger on him. Johnny loves the noises he makes, small but still there, like he is embarrassed to be heard. 

“Let me hear you,” Johnny smiles at the irony that is him saying that to Yibo this time around. “Let me know if I’m making you feel good.” 

Yibo nods, and with a kiss to his stomach, Johnny pulls his sweats down painstakingly slowly, watching as goosebumps raise on his flesh. 

Johnny kisses his hipbones, smiling against his skin when Yibo squirms under him, following down his pelvis and over his still clothed cock. Yibo is warm against his lips even through the fabric, dick twitching with every press of his lips, filling up. Yibo’s breath comes out shaky, almost inaudible save for the whine that comes out at the end. 

_You’re beautiful,_ Johnny wants to say. There is so much he wants to say, building up inside his chest, but for now he decides to show. He curls his fingers into the elastic band of Yibo’s boxers, nails scraping against soft skin when he does, pulling the article down his legs just as slowly as he did his sweats. 

Johnny knows Yibo isn’t fragile, knows he isn’t going to break, but he still handles him with care. Johnny’s hands are light as they run over his thighs, caressing him, warming him up, pulling the sweetest noises out of him. It is like Yibo is hyperaware of Johnny’s presence, of his touch, of his warmth, gasping when Johnny spreads his legs apart and settles comfortably between them. 

Despite all the boldness and bluntness Yibo presents when they are talking, right now he can’t even bring himself to look Johnny in the face, the crimson in his cheeks spreading down his heaving chest. Johnny thinks, as he kisses his inner thighs, that that’s okay. 

Yibo’s fingers dig into the mattress, curling into his sheets and pulling them up when Johnny kisses closer, closer, _closer_ , stopping right where his thigh meets his ass. Johnny bites gently on his flesh, leaving a red mark on his skin. 

Watching Yibo swell against his stomach, his cockhead a dark shade of red, precum oozing from the tip makes Johnny strain in his pants, makes him ache with how turned on he feels. He takes Yibo’s cock in his hand, flicking his wrist a couple times before closing his fingers right under the head. 

The first swipe of Johnny’s tongue over his balls makes Yibo gasp loudly, back arching off bed ever so slightly as his body attempts to curl into itself. Johnny smiles, places a gentle kiss right at the base of his cock and does it again, this time earning a loud moan and the clenching muscles of his thighs. 

Johnny doesn’t linger; instead, he makes his way down to his perineum, running his tongue over the skin as his thumb rubs over his cockhead, smearing precum all over it. Yibo’s breathing gets louder, his squirming more violent with every swipe of his tongue, every drop of saliva that Johnny lets run down his body. 

Johnny pulls back a bit, lips spit slick. He looks up at Yibo’s face – Yibo still isn’t looking at him. 

“Can I?” Johnny asks, vague, watching as Yibo frowns. 

“Can you what?” Yibo asks with a hum. 

“Eat you out.” 

Yibo looks like he wants the world to swallow him whole, and Johnny can’t get over the role reversal going on right now. He can’t believe he isn’t the flustered one for once, that he is the one rendering Yibo speechless and not the other way around. 

Yibo nods but doesn’t answer, and it is Johnny’s turn to frown a little. He props himself up on an elbow, reaching for Yibo’s hand with his free one. 

“Yibo, look at me?” his voice is gentle, and it takes a little bit of coaxing until he does. “Talk to me.” 

“You can,” Yibo is quick to avert his eyes, sounding exasperated, “for the love of _god_ , Johnny, you can do whatever you want.” 

Johnny takes it to heart, spreading his cheeks apart with both hands as he licks over his perineum again. He lets saliva pool in his mouth before letting it drip down Yibo’s skin and over his rim. Yibo moans, louder when Johnny bends down and flattens his tongue against him, licking his way up from his rim to his perineum and over his balls. 

He can feel Yibo shiver under him, his muscles tensing up with every run of Johnny’s tongue against him. Johnny can’t help but smile to himself, pressing the tip of his tongue against the tight ring of muscles until Yibo starts to relax, his noises becoming more frequent. 

It is music to Johnny’s ears, the noises he makes. Johnny unhinges his jaw, enjoying his time just as much as he makes Yibo feel good, makes him wither under his touch. To please him like this, it leaves Johnny feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Running his tongue, eating him out and pulling the most beautiful noises out of him—it is almost enough to make Johnny come in his pants. 

Johnny pulls away and makes his way to Yibo’s bedside table, where he remembers Yibo getting his lube and condoms before. He is pleased to find them there still, getting the small bottle and a strip of condoms out and slamming the drawer shut. He undresses himself as quickly as he can, sighing in relief when he frees his cock from the tightness of his pants. 

When he gets back in bed, Yibo’s entire body is flushed red. 

“Hey,” Johnny runs a soothing hand over Yibo’s thigh, trying to get him to look at him again. “You good?” 

Yibo nods. “Yeah.” 

His voice is almost a whisper, rough around the edges, and it concerns Johnny a bit. 

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay?” he says, reassuring, bending down to place a kiss to his lips. 

Yibo brings his hands up and buries them in Johnny’s hair, holding him close and kissing him deep. Yibo kisses his breath away, kisses him stupid, body so hot it feels almost feverish. Johnny can feel heat pool in his stomach and rise up his body, like burning flames eating him alive. 

His heart thunders in his ribcage when Yibo hooks a leg around his waist. Yibo pushes him down until their bodies are flush against each other, and this time it is Johnny who moans rather loudly at just how fucking good the contact feels. 

Yibo grinds against him, his cock rubbing against Johnny’s, chest trembling as he tries to hold back a moan. Johnny licks across Yibo’s bottom lip, slides into his mouth and lets Yibo swallow all of his moans. Their movements are messy and uncoordinated, Johnny’s brain clouded with everything Yibo to the point he can’t think of anything else. 

His blood is boiling is his veins, and he feels like a volcano about to explode. 

Johnny blindly reaches for the lube, gently nudging Yibo’s legs so he can spread them open for him once again. Yibo does like he is on autopilot, sinking deeper into the mattress when Johnny breaks the kiss in order to kiss down his body once more. 

He spreads a generous amount of lube over his fingers, warming up the gel as he settles on his stomach between Yibo’s legs. Johnny places a kiss on Yibo’s inner thigh, two, three, kisses his skin until he feels Yibo starting to relax under him, his breathing evening out. He presses the tip of his middle finger against his rim and waits. 

“Yibo,” Johnny calls, placing yet another kiss to his skin. “It’s okay if you don’t want it, I just need you to tell me.” 

“I’m okay,” Yibo’s voice is shaky when he speaks, an exhale falling off his lips. “I want it, I really want it.” 

Johnny can’t understand the change in attitude, but Yibo is reaching down and threading his fingers through his hair, locking eyes with him, and Johnny pushes his worries aside for now. He applies pressure on his finger, breaching, sliding in up to the first knuckle and Yibo moans, low and throaty. 

Johnny can feel him relaxing around his digit, so he keeps pushing in up to the last knuckle. Johnny gently moves his finger in circular motions, rubbing the pad against his walls, kissing his inner thigh, whispering sweet nothings so Yibo can relax. 

It works, and soon enough Johnny is able to move more freely, pushing a second finger, working him open. Yibo’s voice grows louder gradually as Johnny scissors his fingers, prepping him gently but relentlessly. He can feel the muscles on Yibo’s thighs clench every time he starts pulling his fingers out, only to have them unclench as he slides back in. 

Yibo looks beautiful like this, legs spread open for him, head thrown back in pleasure and fingers clutching his sheets so tightly his knuckles go white. Johnny holds the words back to himself; he doesn’t think he could say them out loud so suddenly like that. 

“Johnny,” Yibo moans his name out, his breathing shallow again. “More.” 

Johnny doesn’t think he would be capable of denying him anything, really. He pulls his fingers out and presses three back in, and Yibo’s reaction almost sends Johnny into oblivion. There is no resistance at all, the digits sliding in with ease, and Yibo is squirming in pleasure under him, moaning and begging for more, more, _more._

Johnny wants to give him everything. 

He fucks Yibo open until he feels like he is stretched enough, until Yibo is begging him to stop and just get on with it. Johnny wipes his fingers clean on Yibo’s sheets, ignoring the whine that comes out of Yibo’s lips when he does so, peppering his skin with light kisses. 

Yibo props himself up on his elbows as Johnny kneels on the bed to roll on the condom, and Johnny finally sees just how much of a mess he already is. His cheeks are bright red, his lips bitten raw and covered in spit, his hair a disheveled mess. Johnny thinks he looks gorgeous still, a smile blooming on his lips when Yibo locks eyes with him. 

“You’re gonna clean my sheets after,” Yibo mumbles, almost pouting, and Johnny can see a bit of his usual self in him. Johnny’s smile widens when he nods, chuckling when Yibo falls back in bed. 

“Anything you want,” he breathes, fisting himself a couple times before getting back between Yibo’s legs, positioning himself. 

Johnny is watching him closely, but Yibo has his eyes closed once again. His tongue darts out every so often to lick over his lips, and Johnny reads it as nervousness. Johnny bends down, placing a kiss on his collarbone, two up his neck and over his jaw. Yibo’s breathing is steady but his heart is beating like crazy. 

Johnny guides his dick to Yibo’s entrance, pressing lightly against his rim, not enough to breach. Johnny is about to kiss Yibo again when Yibo finally opens his eyes, looking right into him, and it is then that Johnny sees—he is afraid. 

Johnny stops for a second, brushes the hair out of Yibo’s face, searching his eyes. 

“Hey,” he calls for him, tender. “Is something wrong?” 

Yibo is falling apart. 

“It’s just—” his hand comes up to Johnny’s, holding it in place. He leans into the touch, never breaking eye contact. “It’s just that—I’ve never slept with anyone who liked me back before.” 

Johnny feels like he is being hit with a wall of bricks. 

He finally understands Yibo’s change of attitude, why he is acting the way he is. He understands what it feels like to be scared of your own feelings, scared of being hurt, of letting the other person see you for who you are. 

Johnny understands because he feels the same. 

He slots his lips against Yibo’s, soft. 

“Do you trust me?” is what he asks against Yibo’s lips, and Yibo’s answer comes not a second after. 

“Yes.” 

Johnny smiles, pressing his cockhead in, making Yibo gasp. Johnny kisses him deeper, swallows all his noises, tongue sliding against Yibo’s when Yibo starts kissing him back. He slides in deeper, Yibo’s body trembling under him as he moans and spreads his legs further open. 

Yibo wraps his legs around Johnny, pressing him close – _closer_ , fingers locking behind his neck to deepen their kiss. Yibo is almost desperate, rolling his hips and urging Johnny to keep going—until he is buried to the hilt, Yibo’s ass flush against his skin, and it is Johnny’s turn to moan into Yibo’s mouth. 

It has been a while since they did this, since he was so close to Yibo like this, and Johnny feels dizzy. The room feels stuffy and it is like he can’t breathe, Yibo being all he sees and feels. His heart is racing just as much as his mind, his blood pumping hot through his veins, his dick pulsing in Yibo’s ass. 

Yibo holds him still, breathing heavily over his face, panting, a light frown between his brows. Johnny gives him time to adjust; he, too, doesn’t think he could handle moving so soon without coming on the spot. 

"Are you okay?" Johnny asks, his breath ghosting over Yibo's lips, and it is like something anguished breaks out of him, Yibo's kiss engulfing Johnny like he is being pulled under water. 

"You're going to be the end of me, Cap," Yibo whispers brokenly, holding Johnny close. "I'm ready." 

Johnny pistons his hips, pulls out and then slides back in, slow, slow, agonizing in his pace. 

Johnny, in that moment, feels acutely just why Yibo had been nervous. This feels different, this feels monumental, like the axis that Johnny had felt tilt at the start of whatever this is shifts another degree, punctuated by Yibo's groaning in his ear, Yibo's nails digging into his flesh. 

Johnny changes his angle, gently takes one of Yibo's legs from around his waist and brings his leg up over his shoulder, folding Yibo in half until— 

"Fuck, oh fuck, yes, Johnny, like that." 

Yibo is incoherent, absolutely undone as Johnny picks up his pace, the sound of their swearing and hurried breathing and the slick of skin on skin the only sounds filling the room. It is filthy, it is wet, it is everything Johnny could have ever asked for and more. 

Yibo claws at his back, making his skin sting with every scrape of his nails, and all it does is egg Johnny on. He picks up his pace, drilling right into Yibo’s prostate, making Yibo moan louder with evert thrust. Johnny loves the look on his face, like Johnny is fucking his brains out. 

Johnny feels the coiling in his stomach tighten just as Yibo buries his hands in his hair and tugs at his locks, making his scalp sting and his vision flash white. 

“Oh fuck,” it almost comes out like a whine. “Johnny, _fuck_ _._ ” 

And Johnny slows down, brings Yibo’s leg down and wraps it around his waist again, and he knows Yibo is about to complain when he kisses him tender. Johnny is caught on momentum, feeling like he is having an out of body experience, Yibo’s walls tight around his dick. 

Yibo’s eyes flutter open, and when he looks at Johnny through his lashes, Johnny feels like his heart his going to burst. 

“I like you,” Johnny whispers against Yibo’s lips, rolling his hips lazily. “I like you so much sometimes it feels like I’m going crazy.” 

“That bodes well for me then, doesn’t it?” Yibo says, before Johnny has to lean in and kiss the corner of Yibo’s lazy smile. Yibo whines, sliding a hand between their bodies to tug at his cock, jerking himself off at the same slow pace in which Johnny fucks into him. 

Johnny can feel pressure building up, can feel the numbness on his limbs. He knows he will be coming soon, and yet he doesn’t pick up his pace. He chooses to fuck Yibo nice and slow, his hands coming up to cup his cheeks and pull him into yet another deep kiss. 

Yibo’s whines become more frequent, his deep voice going straight to Johnny’s dick. He picks up the pace of his wrist, fucking faster into his fist and back on Johnny, and it is almost enough to tip Johnny over the edge. He can feel his orgasm coming with every clench of Yibo’s walls around his dick, every swipe of his tongue in his mouth, every roll of his hips. 

Yibo is the first one to come, spurting white in his hand and over their chests. He goes completely silent and still, lips parted and eyes tightly shut as he lets pleasure take over him. Johnny almost passes out then, the tightness around his cock when Yibo’s muscles clench too much for him to handle, stars dotting his closed lids. 

Johnny fucks Yibo through his orgasm and after it, fucks into him even when he starts whining from overstimulation. Johnny chases his own orgasm, panting right at Yibo’s ears, his body starting to shake. The coiling in his stomach tightens until it snaps, and then he is coming into the condom, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. 

Yibo moans, feeling the warmth in his ass through the latex. 

“Fuck,” Yibo says with a laugh, running his clean hand through Johnny’s hair. “Fucking hell, Cap.” 

Johnny makes to pull away, his muscles aching, but Yibo holds him in place, close. 

“Don’t,” his voice is barely a whisper, and Johnny’s heart thunders in his chest. “Stay a bit longer.” 

Johnny whines into the request, the command, and settles his hips as Yibo continues to hold him close with his legs around his hips, his ankles locked behind Johnny's back. 

Johnny's never had to come down from an orgasm like this and it leaves his head spinning, his mouth dry. It is soft kisses to his temple that brings Johnny's focus back to Yibo, and Yibo is smiling, his expression blissed out in their afterglow. 

"Earth to Johnny?" Yibo says, his voice amused, breathless. "You still with me, Cap?" 

Johnny pulls back, anchors himself on his elbow while he uses his other hand to brush away the hair from Yibo's sweaty forehead. 

"Yeah," Johnny laughs. "Nowhere else but here." 

Johnny feels stupid, like he is madly in love. 

Johnny can feel the ache in his thighs and his arms starting to creep up on him, and this is when he presses over Yibo's closed eyes, Yibo's eyelashes butterfly-soft on his cheeks, before slowly pulling his cock out, holding the condom in place with his hand. 

"Do you have any hand towels?" Johnny asks as he rolls onto his back, starfishing next to Yibo who is staring at the ceiling, dazed and full of wonder. 

"For what?" Yibo replies, confused. 

"So I can clean us up?" Johnny says, looking at Yibo quizzically. 

Yibo looks taken aback, and then averts his gaze. "Oh, oh yeah, uh, over there, top shelf." 

Johnny moves to stand, finds the hand towels right where Yibo says, and quickly makes his way to the bathroom to run them under the water. When he glances at himself in the mirror, he notices the hickeys that dot his clavicles, his neck. 

He smiles to himself, wondering how the team will react when they see him at practice tomorrow. 

Yibo is beginning to doze off when Johnny returns to the bed, and when Johnny presses a kiss to his forehead to wake him up so as to not startle him, Yibo opens his eyes, his gaze fixed on Johnny. 

Yibo is quiet, thoughtful, as Johnny gently wipes off his sperm from his abdomen, and down around Yibo's soft cock, his ass. 

"No one's ever done this for me before," Yibo says, voice so low Johnny almost misses it. 

Johnny freezes for a moment. He looks at Yibo, really looks at him, and what he sees is the most open Yibo has ever been, all his walls down. 

It crosses Johnny's mind briefly, this flash of anger towards anyone who hasn't shown Yibo the respect he deserves, anyone who may have hurt him or left him feeling like he was less than loved, until he realizes that he had been the same way in a different capacity. 

"Well, I'm here to do this now," Johnny replies. 

Yibo takes him by the wrist, drags him up his body until Johnny's tossing the wet washcloth to the other side of the bed and Yibo is nosing at his neck. 

"Mmm, yes you are," Yibo says. "But for how long?" 

A challenge. A need to confirmation and reassurance. 

"For as long as you'll have me," Johnny replies, cringing at his choice of words, but not regretting them in the wake of Yibo's smile against his lips. 

"Guess you'll be here a while then," Yibo replies, and all conversation is cut off then as his slides his tongue back into Johnny's mouth. 

“Stay the night?” Yibo’s eyes are glistening when they break, and Johnny knows he could never say no. 

“Of course,” he says with a gentle smile, pushing the towel off bed and settling beside Yibo. Yibo curls into his side, head on his shoulder and Johnny doesn’t hold himself back from running a hand through his hair, placing a kiss on his crown. 

Yibo is already dozing off again when Johnny breathes out, at ease, 

“I’ll stay as many nights as you’ll let me.” 

It has been about eighty-seven years since the last time he and Sicheng has a proper movie night of their own, so to say Johnny is happy they are getting to do this now is an understatement. It is the first time in too long they aren’t busy with university or with practice, or that they’re not going out with their respective love interests. 

Johnny settles in Sicheng’s bed with the popcorn, trying not to eat half of it before Sicheng is even done setting his laptop on Johnny’s bed. Sicheng insisted they watch Spirited Away for the fifth time, and Johnny has missed his best friend so terribly he doesn’t even mind that he knows all the lines in the movie already. 

Things go without a hitch – not that Johnny had expected otherwise, but it is nice when they can go a night without bickering about something. The credits are rolling out when Sicheng turns to him, hands folded on top of the pillow he has in his lap, and Johnny feels a dreading feeling settle in his stomach. It should be ridiculous how much Sicheng scares him sometimes.

“So,” Sicheng starts, in the same tone he uses when he wants to get information off Johnny. “Are you gonna tell me what is going on or are you gonna keep me in the dark for a little bit longer?” 

Johnny’s throat is dry. He knew this day would come sooner or later. 

Still, he tries to play it dumb. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Sicheng slams his hands down on the pillow, and Johnny knows Sicheng wishes that was his face instead. 

“You think I’m an idiot?” Sicheng scoffs. “I’ve been living with you for over a year, I know when something’s up with you. Tell me what the fuck is it that you want with Yibo before I slice your throat open.” 

Johnny sighs, turning to look at Sicheng and moving back out of his reach. 

“Listen,” he starts, “it’s not like that—” 

“It’s not like _what?_ ” Sicheng barks, and Johnny can see all his guards up. “Because if you dare mess with my best friend I won’t hesitate to murder you.” 

Johnny doesn’t know how much Sicheng knows. He hasn’t asked Yibo if he has told Sicheng anything about them, but seeing his reaction right now, it is pretty clear that he did. Still, he doesn’t know to which extent, doesn’t know what Yibo has said, and it’s not like he can pick up his phone right now to send him a text asking. 

Sicheng would probably cut his hands off. 

“Can you please calm down and let me talk?” Johnny whines. Sicheng raises a brow but doesn’t say anything else, and Johnny takes that as his cue to try again. “I know we were off to a rough start, and that I wasn’t very fond of him at first, but—things have changed.” 

Sicheng squints at him. “How so?” 

"Well, I got my head out of my ass, for starters," Johnny says, to which Sicheng snorts at. "Look, I know I was an asshole. You told me as much, he told me as much." 

"But along the way something changed," Johnny continues, running his fingers through his hair and making the ends stick out wildly. "A lot of things changed. I started really paying attention, started letting myself see all the things everyone had been trying to point out to me from the beginning." 

"I started to change." A breath. Then another. "I think Yibo saw that, too." 

Sicheng purses his lips into a tight line. 

"He did," Sicheng says, nodding minutely. 

"How much do you know, Dong Sicheng?" Johnny narrows his eyes at him. 

"Did I tell you you could stop explaining yourself? I don't think so?" Sicheng fires back, ignoring his question outright. 

Johnny knows there's no winning this, so he does the only thing he _can_ do: tell the truth. 

"I really, really like him," Johnny says, and he can't keep the smile or the blush from blooming on his face. This is the dam that is about to break, the doors to his feelings that he has kept closed for so long. "I like how he laughs, how he doesn't—hasn’t ever taken any of my bullshit." 

By the look on Sicheng’s face, Johnny knows what he is thinking – that he, too, doesn’t take any of his bullshit, but the both of them know this is different. 

"I like that I can be myself around him, like I don't have to pretend that I'm anything more than just me, some guy with a couple of hobbies and who really likes to play ball. I like that he's so much more talkative anyone would have realized at first glance." 

“You just need to get to know him,” Sicheng adds, and Johnny nods at that. 

"He makes me feel alive, Sicheng," Johnny says, in wonder at the realization. “For the first time in too long it doesn’t feel like the only thing I’m good for is being team captain.” 

Johnny watches as Sicheng softens around the edges, how he puts his metaphorical knives down. He hopes he didn’t dump too much on him, that he wasn’t being too corny, but even if he was he wouldn’t take any of it back. 

Sicheng asked for the truth, and that is the least Johnny could give him right now. 

“I want to get to know him,” he continues when Sicheng doesn’t say anything. “I want to get to know him better. I like who I get to be around him, and I like who he is around me. It is comforting, in a way, and I wanna keep pursuing that.” 

“And you’re sure this isn’t some kind of sick joke of yours?” Sicheng presses on still, and Johnny knows he isn’t being unkind. Sicheng has always been protective over the things and the ones he loves, and this time it is no different. “You’re sure you’re not gonna get rid of him when you get bored?” 

Johnny smiles. “He’s not a distraction to me, Sicheng. I really, genuinely like him.” 

“Good,” Sicheng purses his lips. “Because I’ve never seen Yibo like that over anyone else, and I need to make sure you’re not gonna fuck this up.” 

Johnny draws an x over his heart. “Cross my heart, I just wanna make him happy.” 

Sicheng finally settles, sighing. “You better!” 

“We’re gonna be okay,” he says with a smile. “We are a work in progress, but we are gonna be okay.” 

As a rule of thumb, Johnny quite likes tryouts. It gives him the opportunity to find new talent, meet new people, make the bond in their team grow stronger. Johnny has had the chance to meet some wonderful people through his basketball varsity in the past years, and there are very few things he enjoys more than being on court, playing, adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

Right now, though, he can name a few. 

Johnny likes the duality Yibo presents on and off court, going from playful to serious in a matter of seconds as soon as Coach’s whistle announces the start of their practice time. He likes how he was able to watch Yibo’s sense of teamwork build before his very eyes, likes being able to see him sprint across the court like the free-spirited being that he is. 

He likes the way Yibo smiles, the sound of his laugh, the way he always bumps his shoulder against Johnny’s when Johnny says something remotely funny. He likes it when Yibo cooks him eggs in the morning when he sleeps over, despite how horrible his food tastes. 

Johnny likes the way Yibo plays with his hair when Johnny has his head on his lap, nose deep into his books as they study for exams. 

They are still a work in progress, for sure, but Johnny likes it how he gets to be just himself whenever Yibo is around. To not have his guard up all the time, Johnny quite likes that a lot. 

They have come a long way, and yet it feels not too long ago when he watched Yibo walk into this very court for tryouts, watched him play with unmatched skills. When Johnny thinks back to it, he can’t believe he ever dared disagree with their coach and his teammates. 

Now, Johnny feels very glad Yibo got into the team. 

The whistle blows, announcing the end of practice time, and Johnny all but collapses on the floor, exhausted. 

Yibo’s figure comes right into his field of vision, sweaty and panting as he hovers over Johnny, stretching a hand out for him. 

“Come on, Cap,” Yibo’s smile is bright, wide, and Johnny can’t help but mirror it. “Good game today.” 

Johnny takes Yibo’s hand in his, getting back on his feet, and he tries not to blush when Yibo gets on his tippy toes and places a peck on his cheek. There are eyes on them, but it no longer bothers him – Johnny knows their teammates can’t quite understand how they make it work when they were at each other’s throats not too long ago. 

Sometimes, he can’t understand it either. 

But as they walk out of the court and into the locker room, shoulders brushing as Johnny tells Yibo a story about his freshman year, Yibo laughs, loud and unfiltered, and all his questions and doubts vanish in a second. 

For as long as he can make Yibo smile, Johnny knows it is worth it to keep on trying. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you've reached this point, thank you so much for reading it!! i love them!!!
> 
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